Tick tock. Wait for me, no?
You're not dead yet, so…
Come and get me. It's cold…
For such a bargain I'm sold

To a gentleman in black suit
He somehow got me to shoot
Hitler's chainsaw in the air
Spitting death fly, but I can't care

Reaper with death engraved
On his distorted face slaved
My essence with my own blood
Sprinkled like rose. But mud

Dark as obsidian make it damper
My sight – the last I remember
Is her face. Running in desperation
Before the strings snap, no hesitation

I squeeze my hand against
Cold touch of polymer, haste
Is not enough when the screaming
Alloy slices the air in gleaming

Fireworks. The recoil bounces
In my grip and like hounds
Metals are on hunt for life
To consume and destroy, the strife

Editor's Note: 5.56. 45. Tragedy reported.

Notes: 5.56x45 is a standard NATO bullet, not time. but it sounds like it. It's a satire for death, rather disturbing.