Dust storm

The shutters rattled with fury from a violent dust storm outside.

A man lay stone dead in my cellar from a sudden dispute.

My wife is out the door with my heart of gold.

Leaving me here with ash filled lungs.

I twitch at the thoughts that compel me to reach for my revolver.

I've denied it's my fault that she left, but who could blame her. I was only a man broken by the West.

The windows began to crash in, doors falling off hinges.

As I sat in my chair, alone. The lone ranger who couldn't handle the West.