The first boy's the one that brought the gun.
He told the other, "It'll be fun!"
The second one was too wary.
Scared and shy he came.
"Put that away…" he squeaked out.
"I can do it!" The other boasted.
"Just watch."
He picked up the gun and swung it around.
"It's not even loaded." He said with a frown.
"If it was, would I do this?"
He pointed the gun at the other boy's chest.
"No-!" A strangled cry of distress came from the second.
"Bang bang!" The first joked and pulled the trigger.
Not knowing what was coming.
The other boy fell.
Green blood everywhere.
Dead as he slumped.
A sob wrenched its way out of the first.
It's hard for a child to be noble.
Hard for a scarred soul to carry on.
So turned the gun and looked it in the eye.
Looked to the boy and said,
"Sorry you had to die.
I'd trade my life for yours if given a chance.
But I can't.
All I can give is my own.
Hope this will due."
Pulled the trigger without regret.
Two boys.
Best Friends.
Born within the same minute.
Died within the same minute.
One went to heaven.
The other to hell.
This story is told.
Would be if it was true.
Year after year, smeets are told.
The dangers of friendship.
Not the danger of guns.
Two boys.
Best Friends.
Buried next to each other.
Red and Purple.