More than one hundred years ago he lived,

In a small village somewhere in Mexico, a boy.

Poor was his family as each day was a struggle,

There were those close by, the bad ones who stole everything.

A day came when his village was destroyed, family killed,

Survived did he to one day grow to be a man.

Revenge would be his only friend, not a bad man was he,

With pistolas at his side he would seek justice.

They called him desperado, a no good criminal,

He stole from them who once took everything meaningful.

His gun did the talking, anger ate at his soul,

He lived by campfire, ate what he shot or stole,

Justice was one day his, his reward was always on the run.

Keith Garrett


5 thoughts on “DESPERADO

  1. I wanted to email th is but don’t see an option. Day is spelled wrong. I don’t call out writers, lik I said, no email. Feel free to delete my comment after editing.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s