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Array
(
[sid] => 42710
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Gift
[time] => 2004-04-11 04:27:35
[hometext] => a present to remember
[bodytext] => Happy birthday son, said the father to his boy Here is your gift, be careful it's no toy A hunting rifle, of high calibre Gave him a licence, to go and massacre Suddenly the boy had power, at his fingertip As he first shot at bottles, to see how good a hit Moving on to animals, his killer instinct now released Thinking about human targets, the ultimate kill for a beast He made his way to the local park, where parents and toddlers walk Squatted down within a bush, ready to cause more than just shock Taking aim through the sight, he gently squeezed the trigger Seeing her drop, from his single shot, he began to snigger Firing again another fell, this time a child aged nine This was easy, like amusement arcade, shooting ducks in a line He now fired at random, targets cowering, screaming help Still he kept shooting, maiming and murdering, such power he felt The squad cars arrived, to this scene, of dying and death He fired at them, with a sneer, he hated this scum of the earth They had him surrounded, nowhere to hide, he had no escape Standing up, he put his hands in the air, this was his final mistake The first bullet hit him, square in the chest, he felt his body recoil A second blew a hole in his skull, he fell to the soil His life had ended just like his prey, only he done it for fun Who was to blame, was it dad's gift to his son, his very first gun [comments] => 1 [counter] => 169 [topic] => 13 [informant] => parkman [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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