Gunman Poem by Tariq Alkaritty

A rash man... toting a gun
Stomps and ruffles the ground
He tramples everything around

He is the one with a callous ace
Up a sleeve he will definitely pull:
His IQ is that of a loose screw!

His orders are from mad say-sos
Within a temple awash with demons
And his soul - lies with the damned

He has lost his nous and grown so cold
There is nothing left to spark emotion;
He withers, like the skin reptiles shed off

This chump - mows down the dreams of a nation
Not surprising, though, he will eventually quail
Cravenly, in the face of a man with a bigger gun.