Shotgun I Never Fired

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Writing over coffee

Submitted: November 11, 2015

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Submitted: November 11, 2015

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Inhaling the scent
of decay and ash,
I played in the streets.
I did not know it then but now,
that familiar smell returns.

I was only young; 
a mere girl, he said.
A cygnet from fire.
With eyes like snow that stuns the trees,
and a smile made out of marble.

There were bombs in me,
exploding through bone
and inside my lungs.
The craters that they left before,
were never sealed to begin with.

This time it was me,
who had shot the gun.
You were my target.
Will my scars not harken my plea?
Will you not show me mercy, too?

You were the Great War,
Inside my blood and
through my selfish veins.
I am sorry I never was 
able to show my virulence.


© Copyright 2020 AlanaLouiseMcDermott. All rights reserved.

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