Midnight Moon Poem by Cora Lee

Sick and deadly comes the gun,
ready now, for some midnight fun.
Riseing from the darkend soil,
ashes to ashes lier to loyal.
Stolen hearts, and broken bones,
both of which are yours to own.
The battle never realy is won,
prepare now, instead you run.
Faster faster, falling down,
panting now, a satisfing sound.
Into the corner, you know you lose,
careful now, before you choose.
Loving deciving little creature,
a bullet hole, is your next feature.
Lying in a pool of deep red,
poring from your pretty little head,
I dropp to my knees and cry to the moon,
the smell of blood, which Im now immune.
I leave again, to my haunted mind,
wonding what I'll do next time...