Am Gun, Will Kill
I am made in the U.S.A.
Mainly composed of stainless steel,
Stick bullets in me the right way,
Shoot me and get that oh good feel.
I got my first home through online,
Daddy wanting to please his son.
A robber stole me, I was fine.
No attachments for this here gun.
The robber took me to a store.
Boy, the bullets came out of me,
Caused lots of fatal blood and gore.
Tossed in a garbage truck, I be.
So now I'm stuck in a landfill,
Waiting, waiting for that next kill.
Comments about this poem (Am Gun, Will Kill by Ima Ryma )
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