Dust

Glass coke bottles, suntanned skin

Dust, stingin’ sweat, breathe out and in

Cracklin suspense, wide worried eyes

One, two the slow one dies

 

Three, four, kickin up dust,

Once shiny, spurs, covered in rust

Five, six, grippin my gun

One clean shot and I’ll have won

 

Seven, eight, almost time

This old boy’s past his prime

Nine, hundred’s of eyes starin me down

One clean shot, impress the whole town

 

Nine and a half, holdin’ my breath

One’s gonna feel the sting of death

This road’s been walked by many men

But only half still stood after, ten!

 

Turn, lock eyes, shoot ‘im dead

Deep, deep pain he got me instead

Right in the gut, makin sure it would hurt

A scream, runnin feet, my wife’s swishin skirt

 

Crystal blue eyes rimmed in red

Different blue eyes from when we was wed

Her hand on my face, head in her lap

My pulse is fading, tap, tap, tap

 

A shoot out was had and shots were fired

A man’s gotta fight, it’s just the way we are wired

This poem is about: 
My country

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