hands of death

as you look down to the floor
persue your eyes to glance up once more
look him right in the eye-
down the barral of his gun,
try not to lie he knows what you've done.
As he yeilds his ugly face upon you-
here is what you have got to do:
feel utter remorse of why your here,
staring up at the face of death
try not to listen, WAIT-
to late in his hand he sparks a flame,
gently he pushes it down to you, until you can feel it
it will start in your shoe,
you feel the pain, you feel the burn
you start to scream, you start to beg
yet as he goes to make a turn he throws back his head,
he chuckles once then falls to his knees,
its this poem to you he reads:
              "you came to me bitter and cold,
              it doesn't matter you age i dont care how old,
              you wronged someone once, you wronged someone twice,
              now its my turn to throw the dice,
              if you survive my hand og flames i'll let you live-              i'll pull the reins,
              but if you dont,
              which im sure you wont,
              you stay here- your burnt corpse remaining,
              come one lets see who's left restraining."
as he finished this with a salty grin,
the games over-you lost- you died,
he smiles and says "thanks i enjoyed that ride"