I sweat profusely toting a gun
The victor could be I in a blink of an eye
Could this be a comfort to my end
A mind throng with vindicatioN
Hate leap in my optics
It seem they want to quench my happiness
But i wield a sordid countenance
Can it be a scowl
Or a prowl for happiness as I unload my ammunition
But victors do not have a prowl
So I suffer tremendously suffer with my fate
