Kids Were Playing
Kids were playing outside, in the playground.
Swing, slide, sandbox and Mary-go-round.
One was sitting inside, with bottle in one hand.
Thought of things that will never be comprehended.
Paper notes on the table, sketches of ideas.
Scrambled, messy, illogical, the Arcadia.
Revolver in the other hand, with bullets that wisely shine.
Shot was fired, point blank range, never miss.
Kids were still playing outside, in the playground.
Played, played, played, as death never be found.
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