I remembered! Here’s the second bit of the poem. (There’s still a third, tiny bit. The first part is here.)
I was only four,
When I had to act like I was more.
With a wicked, menacing grin,
He committed yet another sin.
He shot my mother dead,
While he laughed off his head.
I ran, disgusted, afraid, terrified,
Helpless, confused, horrified.
It wasn’t long, before he caught up,
As I struggled, thrashing like an impotent pup.
The cold metal touched my ear;
The bullet loading, the only sound I could hear,
There was a whoosh of a bullet flying towards my brain,
But… I felt no pain.
Also, happy Valentine’s Day! I spent it with someone special. ;) How about you? :)