Birthed in the minds of power-mad men,
Forged in the mouth of a dark thundercloud,
My sole purpose to kill,
I make murder a thrill;
The cause of many
A burial shroud.
A tool of war-mongers and lovers, alike,
Eat bullets, spit fire, life snatched in a flash.
Life of violence,
Endless echoes left,
Bereft and shrieking,
After the crash.
Were I not here, you’d find another way,
To kill each other, one by one,
“Equalizer”, I be.
Men, women, children…
None are safe from The Gun.
~ C.L.R. ~ © 2013