(This is a fictional poem)

A man is pointing his 44 at my head.
If he pulls the trigger, I'm dead.
He appears to be a deranged lunatic.
He needs a psychiatrist because he's sick.

I'm really scared and my eyes are beginning to well.
I'm about to be killed by a man who should be in jail.
It's pitiful when I think of all of the people who are turning to crime.
I'd give a million dollars if I could hold my wife just one more time.