Preacher Poem by Danny The Dreamer Boyd

Preacher



It's not that easy living by the sword,
Or in his case a ruthless wicked gun:
His reasons? Told, and freedom's ever stored,
In bullets boxes down the dismal sun.
Alas, some say a sinner, some a saint;
But still and all, he walks a lonesome road.
Behold his morals, like his colors, faint,
And melancholy's heart's his dread abode.
His hands are dipped in blood; not all he's shed,
Revenge is getting tighter 'bout his neck;
Salvation's when all evil winds up dead:
For this old friend has left his life a wreck.
The day is done with one more left to kill:
He cocked his gun and screamed, 'See You in Hell.'

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