My town sits on a single-lane dirt road.
A black car roars up to my cantina.
The bandits inside are thirsty for blood.
First shot to my arm brings first sign of blood.
Bodies of townsfolk fast fall to the road.
Others seek refuge in my cantina.
The shooters lay waste to my cantina.
More innocent victims lie soaked in blood.
The villains laugh; they escape down the road.
The road to my cantina weeps fresh blood.
(Inspired by 9/09/13 news article on the attack. Written for dVersepoets. Open Link Night. September 10, 2013,)