I must run, run, run.
A bullet whizzes by.
I speed up
And another one catches my eye.
Sprinting hard
I see one hit the ground.
I steal a glance over my shoulder
The gunman is coming around.
I look back ahead.
That's a big mistake.
For standing right there
Is his partner, ready to make me break.
I whirl and run away
And I feel a pain, stronger than ever before
I look down and see the bullet
That pierced my chest in the uproar.
I cringe and fall to the ground.
The sweepers finally reach me.
As I look with grieving eyes
They glare back, angry.
I painfully start to die…
But wait. Why me? Why now?
I don't have anyone to hear about me and cry.
It seems so unreal.
And how? I'm the greatest thief in the county.
The sweepers are talking again, and the last thing I hear is:
"Now we'll never get the bounty."