Johnny the Kid died by a switchblade heart. He stepped as a peacemaker between a nameless feud; then a stiletto cut him deep inside. A darkness seized that night under a blood red moon. He fell to virgin soil, his breath bleeding aside strangers' footsteps. See, Johnny the Kid was fifteen years old and had only begun to dream of a girl. He slept lastly alone on this barren ground. His mother cried for her lost boy. And the imaginary girl: she too slept on bleeding soil. But never she was with Johnny the Kid, a nameless switchblade had cut across her wanting heart.