Skeets was having a good day.
And he went into the liquor store to buy a 6 pack of Budweiser Beer.
Then a sorry punk thug decided to rob the store.
Skeets was no hero and he saw a way out.
He didn't care about the women or children in the store.
He was going to save his own butt.
So he grabbed his 6 pack and tried to run out the backdoor of the store.
But the thug shot him in the back.
As he lay dying.
Skeets had to drink one last can of Bud.
Monday, March 29, 2021
Topic(s) of this poem: people