I killed a Gangster

THIS FICTIONAL POEM TAKES PLACE IN THE 1930s.

Until 1934 I was a barber, that used to be my profession.

Many people are suffering because of this Great Depression.

A Gangster walked into my shop but when he left, he had to be carried.

He was responsible for many deaths and I made sure that he was buried.

I usually don't brag but this time I love to gloat.

That punk asked for a shave and I slit his throat.

He dealt in Prostitution, Gambling, Booze and Heroin.

I made sure that he couldn't do anything illegal again.

I'm not ashamed of myself even though I lost my freedom and my wife.

I saved people from that animal and a Judge sentenced me to life.

I'll be locked up for the remainder of my years.

I don't regret what I did, my conscience is clear.