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A wanted man

A rider on the storm with a bounty on his head. His trusty steed carries him through the storm, wounded and close to death. Indeed a wanted man but he never drew first, yet he drew first blood. The storm water washes away the blood, although the pain and his sins remain. Billy the kid is what he's named and to him it's just a game. Life and death are not far enough apart, in the pistol smoke hear the blasts every day could be his last.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

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Date: 12/8/2013 4:11:00 AM
Hi Andy your poem sound like a western movie. You have led readers to imagine the story. Nice work.
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