A spent casing
Ricochets from the floor below.
A tuft of heavy smoke
Lingers, a finger, drifting and curling defiling the air
With its smell of...
Spent power.
A sound unlike sound, that kills ears
Make them ring make them ring and eternally sing
Their swan song...
Smoke curls and lingers
Like some pantomimic
pipe smoke....
A spent casing.
So much in so little.
And now it has exclaimed
And nothing is left
But blackened, cooling brass.
And the sharp sting of a memory.
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