.308 Poem by Frank Valenti

Pulling back the bolt to cycle another round
Peering through my scope it's your face I see
Thinking of the friend you used to be
You'd lay motionless before you hear the sound
My rifle steady in a precise grip
Remembering the key to accuracy is to breathe
Letting you exist makes me seethe
Waiting for the perfect moment to let it rip
Squeezing my trigger I calmly exhale
Hoping dearly that I do not fail
Waste of life that noone can change
You're just lucky im shooting at the range