I Killed a Gangster

Until 1934 I was a barber, that used to be my profession. Many people are suffering because of this Great Depression. A Gangster walked into my shop but when he left, he had to be carried. He was responsible for many deaths and I made sure that he was buried. I usually don't brag but this time I love to gloat. That punk asked for a shave and I slit his throat. He dealt in Prostitution, Gambling, Booze and Heroin. I made sure that he couldn't do anything illegal again. I'm not ashamed of myself even though I lost my freedom and my wife. I saved people from that animal and a judge sentenced me to life. I'll be locked up for the remainder of my years. I don't regret what I did, my conscience is clear. (This fictional poem takes place in the 1930s.)