She was the last to see it.
She didn't have time to run.
She sat there
like a deer caught in headlights,
and stared at the man with the gun.
She thought about screaming,
but it stuck in her throat.
She watched the man cock the hammer,
on his rusty old
double action colt.
She couldn't believe it would go down like this.
Two rounds, strait to her chest.
But as she fell, her last thoughts were peaceful.
And now,
she'll be able to rest.
Tori Beals
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/unfortunate-6/
