The Murder

Bang! Bang!

The gun sang and the sound rang as he hangs

His blood spilt inside of the house he had built

Filled with guilt; you rapidly rose

He turns a cyrstal pale and looks so frail

As outside the sirens wail

It's too late to bail

Now it's off to jail

His picture will be in the mail

Others will follow your trail

A never-ending tale that's already set sail

It can't be stopped and we've already failed

This poem is about: 
Our world


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