Hand guns pop rifles crackA Poem by Baby Ricochet
hand guns pop and rifles crack
thats the sound they make metal rounds rip the bodies of the souls they take bullets are dependable they never let you down if your aim is square and true your target hits the ground he was dead eye steady 26 people are dead youve any idea what its like to see a bullet destroy a head if you're not horrified somethings wrong with you 20 childeren to rheir graves merry christmas mr scrooge
© 2012 Baby RicochetAuthor's Note
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Added on December 16, 2012Last Updated on December 16, 2012 AuthorBaby RicochetTampa, FLAboutI write just for the hell of it A way to spend some time Blurting out in cyber space Whatever's on my mind Maybe funny maybe tragic Emotional and raw Politi.. more..Writing
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