Rise And Fall Of A Killer. Poem by Aidan Ross

Bloody empire, rise and fall of a king.
Foolish man, what a silly thing.

Raised on tough streets, quickly learned to lie.
Had nothing, not afraid to die.
Met a lesser wiseguy, got let into the mob.
He was pretty good, right man for the job.

10 years later, still a lesser man.
Killer, robber, gunman, lowest of the clan.
Just a phsychopath, not really worth a dime.
But if he could calm down, he may find his time.

Slowed down the beating, made a big score.
Hooked in some coppers, he controls the law.
Finally respect, ready to be made.
Finally like a prince, not just some schmuck getting paid.

Almost a boss, world at his fingertips.
Can't unsterstand those fools who take payslips.
Feeling really great, he's climbed out of the pit.
Not a single tear, for the throats that he has slit.
In front of the big man, nows his time to shine.
But he does not know, that tonight he will not dine.
Feels the cold gun barrel up against his head.
What did he do? To make them want him dead.
He was just too dangerous to be kept.
He killed a rival boss, without mercy while he slept.
His old friend pulls the trigger, everything is cold.
He falls to the floor, 'goodbye' he is told.

The world was in his grasp and then it slid through his fingers.
He is gone but his impact lingers.
Crime doesn't pay, that he never learnt.
Books were only to be burnt.
As a child, he never had much fun.
Now it is just too late, his final race is run.