They tear flesh from body, Leaving holes a quarter round.
Slugs pierce the heart, spilling Blood to ground.
Death comes quickly, final, Profound. You work much more slowly, Never a corpse to be found. Your slaughtered are still living, Hearts yearning for a round. Although the life drained out quickly, Palor in its stead, Nothing tore my flesh away, As I pleaded for that day. You were my companion, You were my heart's blood.