
39. Firearm
He snivels an apology,
Cries his heart out silently,
Into the dark, unraveling,
Where no one can hear him,
Where the sirens don't reach the ears,
Where the goodnight isn't raided from the pillows,
Where the numbness immerses it all,
In death's arms, a peaceful sleep,
A lullaby of the firearm firing.
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