In Cried of A Gun
i.
Filthy foot that once marked in the sand,
Left, right until it comes to unbounded edge.
Rest to replenish the spiteful soul, hold…
Grin that transforming in enthralling scowl.
ii.
Child that feeding in a mother breast
Astonished in a howling ground…
Noxious blood is the aftermath of food given life.
Breathless, acrimony, despair, worthless…
iii.
Morning that showered by a blast,
Nor a grief thief passing in somberness of night.
Urban stone with your women and children…
Waiting to their men and praying to be alive.
iv.
Once this creator formed metal is treacherous.
Commencing saving until to finished spirits…
Walk, run, fast, fell down, stand then kneel.
Hollowing, or maybe cried in a gun.
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