Gun shots,
Blood stains.
There on the ground,
My best friend layed.

Tears streamed,
Fast down my cheek.
When I whispered to myself,
'I musn't be weak.'

As he laus on the ground,
Blood pours out his chest.
'HE CAN'T BE DEAD!
He just needs rest!'

His voice starts to slur,
But I can't understand.
His body is ice cold,
but still hold his hand.

He wasn't just a friend,
He was so much more.
My best friend was my daddy,
Who now lay dead on the floor.

No more gun shots,
Dried up blood.
My daddy has now left,
who I sincerely loved.



All mine , please don't take .