Well Regulated

Two men in the street
Angry over slight perceived
Shout and scream
Faces red
Necks big
Throbbing veins in foreheads
Pounding the drumbeat
Cold iron in hot hands appear
Ear splitting crack
next heartbeat
Is the last heartbeat
Crimson life spills
On concrete
Mixing with cigarette butts and bird shit
Both men fall
For mothers they call
Light from eyes dissipates
As last breath escapes
While their children weep
Blood pools mingle
On the street
From their cold dead hands fall