The Journalist

journalistA pen, a notepad, a juicy new story
The building was old, only two-storey
I climbed up the stairs in disgust
The place was covered in dirt and dust
I looked down at the Senator’s black Jeep that I followed
What was a dignitary doing in a place like this, I swallowed
Then I heard two gunshots from above, followed by a piercing scream
What happened next was like a terrible dream
I bundled up the stairs, with my camera thudding against my breast
To find the senator above a dead man, bullets pumped into his chest
I held up my camera and took five shots at least
The dignitary then turned savage, the politician, a beast
He lunged towards me like an angry bull, strong and mean
Red eyes beaming maliciously, sweat gleaming on thick black skin
Then everything turned black, I hear the melodious echo of a siren
Knowing I’ll live to see another day, I silently whispered, ‘I win’.

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