TWO THINGS

Oleg Volk

A certain young lady posted a poem recently:

"Two things move under night sky
the thing that came to kill, and I

He, released from prison to roam
and I, peaceably headed to home

He carries a knife and drug addled sense
seeing just prey, without defense

I detect movement, intuitive fear
and put my hand to pistol near

Worried, alone in that gloomy blight
above the fear, I prepare to fight

He hears the click of a chambered round
fleeing quickly to hunt safer ground

No predator dares go hunting for me
for I am armed, that makes me free

I holster my pistol and slowly stand down
heading towards home in a dark, sleeping town

For there are two things that will not die
my right to carry, and this night, I

I thought about it and solicited a response from the perp:

In the deep of the night I savored a stroll
Out of prison, again, on parole
That fateful night, I chanced to meet
A bitch out alone, a nice piece of meat

She was petite and looked so fine
Deep in her thoughts, unaware of mine
I felt a nice warmth as my body prepared
To catch this new prey to be mine fair and square

I went after her like a true wild beast
Carry me, legs! Pummel her, fists!
She wouldn't look good once well tenderized
But I don't mind a bruise or black eyes

She was almost mine when she noticed and spun
And her little weak hands came up with a gun
Flash ruined my vision, pain spread through my chest
I went for her throat but the bullets were faster

Before I expire, I pray to my saints
to Schumer, Obama, Feinstein and Brady
Have pity on poor, unfortunate perps
Take guns away from bitches like her!"