Sam Clipper

“Hands up!” the man in blue screams

Sweat drips down my brow, forward I lean

Do I run? Do I die?

Do I accept my fate, be alive but dead inside

A bag of chips, a can of soda and I dipped

Thought I was fast, but brittle man is only so quick

I drop the items and turn slowly

A slap is on the wrist is all I get hopefully

A sound grazes my thigh, rather a buzz

On instinct I reach for my phone as everyone does

And in a flash, I’m bleeding

In my head I am screaming

I see the concrete cracks quickly fill with red

Is this what I get, Is this my end?

Justifications over life never meant for debate

But I was told never tread this path, for this is supposed to be our fate