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Panhandle Tragedy

Poetry By: Unfortunate Cowboy

Justice ain't always the way we planned.

Submitted:Jul 25, 2011    Reads: 43    Comments: 7    Likes: 3   

I came to town to start over,

walked in to grab a meal

maybe a drink, even put

my gun on the table.


He came through the door,

looking for trouble,

ready to kill if he so felt,

and I was who he laid eyes on.


They'll bury him in the morning,

but they're hanging me tonight.


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