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From beneath the dust bowl storm, from when st they came,
Blazing a trail across the pages of historical fame.
Accelerations desperadoes, with guns drawn, wild hearts
Beating as thunder, they are the restless and  free,
 Bandits of the youthful passion called rebellion.
Living and thriving by the bullets firing, escaping in
The blood's adrenalin rush, burning rubber down,
The highway of tragedy.
The untouchables, burnt a cinder by desires flame,
Fallen stars of legends notorious, lit comets crashing,
To the earth below, dieing in a hail of gun fire.
A faded poster, hangs on a rusty nail, along side
A dusty deserted road, in bold prints lettering,
It is so written, wanted the Barrow Gang, reward 
Offered dead or alive, for Bonnie Parker and
 Clyde Barrow.
Slammed down the trigger, against the bullet's
Hardened edge of conflict, the lawless have
Drawn first blood, but the silver shields power,
Have they angered, and revenge is a cold slippery
Surface to exist upon, shall their souls not fry,
 Beneath the summers sizzling sun.
Cry does not Juliet, to her Romeo, as the gray
Smoke clears, Bonnie's last words softly
Spoken, his name, Clyde, Clyde, than silence.
Two doves soar towards heaven, blinded
By the light beyond, spiritual castaways, bond
Eternally to one another, lost in the dream illusion,
Of their love.
The lone highwayman, the grim ripper,
Cradles the youthful broken frames,
Of the lovers, cut apart by fame's delusions.
Lain in a hole, in the cold hard ground.
A tear did even he, the angel of death, 
Wipe away, and placed a single red rose,
On Bonnie's grave.
Do not weep on their behalf, for in God's
Kingdom, they'll know a freedom, they've
Never known.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

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