Colin F. Jones


Death is instant when the bullet hits,
All that you were is gone.
Your mind is shattered into bits,
Of bone and brain and done.
‘Tis a moment brief – you are dead,
You are yourself no more.
What went on inside your head
Has turned to blood and gore.
What worth was all the pain and tears,
The anxiety, and the woe,
The desperate worry all those years,
Yourself the only foe?
No, there is no time to pause for tears,
For tears they always flow.