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THE GUNSLINGER:

THE END:
One tear and one bullet,
And heaven took away my breath.
One second till I close my eye lid,
And I will crawl deep into my crate.
One moment before he takes my gun,
And I will relinquish my soul to the devil.
One life for me, while you await another sun,
And my bones will strike Hells anvil.
Today I cry, tomorrow I will not feel;
Today, you pulled the trigger, tomorrow you join me in Hell.
THE ACT:
The sins I have fought for,
The times I held the reapers scythe,
The lore I have turned sour,
The darkness I thought was light,
The days I spoke for God,
The nights I ferried souls across the Styx,
The minutes I spent rehearsing blood,
The hours I wasted fornicating with the crucifix.
THE REMORSE:
One life and one opportunity,
And I have lost it on illusions of grandeur.
One duty that was never my serenity,
And yet I continued my bloody couture.
One adultery and that was all was needed,
And a thousand more such infidelities.
One and too many, I seceded,
And sold my final share of abilities.
One life and a thousand more lives,
And finally that one life forever cloys.
THE INTERMISSION:
A fine sun I had seen in summer,
Back when the sky was white and not blue.
A paradise lost that froze in winter,
And that was when I found my musket aglow.
Not too much of a teetotaler I ever was.

One choice and I got drunk in all its inglorious glory,


I have not awoken ever from this bloodlust,
In all my infamous honesty, Bloody Mary was my sorry.

THE TRANSITION:
Mock despair, psychosocial,
A cloudy day.
Failed conscience, pseudo sacred,
A virtuous demon.
Summer of my sin, the trigger,
A dead body.
Love and my life, a misery,
A lonely existence.
No kills, no thrills,
Cold turkey.
THE DEPRESSION:
The 47th year in the 23rd hour,
Apathy and despair in a maelstrom.
My head, my heart and my finger,
Six bullets but the 90th cadaver.
Killer instincts at their nadir,
Yet there is no catch prize safe for cheap thrills.
And finally along came Satan with all his gloom,
With a contract that spelt my doom.
A lot has come to pass but more still to go,
The rivers of Death Valley with blood flow.
THE DECISION:
All is fair in life and death,
Pre-ordained , the tribunal of His Majesty.
My life for sorrow and for lead,
Silver and gold secondary, my soul primary.
Lovers, enemies and demons in the fray,
Keep my soul intact, I will pray.
Yet, I fear for no incarceration,
My only punishment, I will pay with blood,
I will not cry, I will not sway, I will not sing aloud.
The papyrus still binds me, murder is necessary.

THE PUNISHMENT:
Fire and brimstone fills my wretched sight,
I feel washed yet I fill unclean to the marrow.
Lucifer beckons, I feared no man in the light,
But the king, I have to bow down before, now,
Betrayal is rife when the fire starts to singe,
And before I can cringe, I die a second time.
He was, is and will always be the damned.
My whole life, a servitude to end in capital crime,
I kneel now, my conscious finally maimed.
No honor, no glory, no love, no dime.

THE EPILOGUE:
No person will ever read my eulogy,
The paradox will suffice for me as comedy,
To give me comfort as I ready to enter the burning fraternity,
The story of the gunslinger comes to maturity.
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