I was five and he was six.we rode on horses made of stick.he wore black and i wore white.he would always win the fight.bang bang, i hit the ground.bang bang, that awful sound.bang bang, my baby shot me down.Seasons came and changed the time.and i grew up, i called him mine.he would always laugh and say"remember when we used to play?"Now he's gone, i don't know why...and till this day, sometimes i cry...he didn't even say goodbye.he didn't take the time to lie.