Furious with rage, yet stauch to a cause;
It’s not who wins, but who first draws.
A pistol with no purpose but to play,
Making transformations along the way.
In final form, fifty freaks will wonder;
What kept them whole, and not asunder?
No less than fire-filled reprise effaced
The weary mind was in its way, disgraced.
Left standing were the true of heart,
Needing just a spark to finally depart.