Gunmetal

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is one of my more violent poems, inspired by a book I was reading. It's a poem personifying a gun used in a genocide, describing the deaths and the feelings of the gun.

Submitted: October 24, 2011

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Submitted: October 24, 2011

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Gunmetal.

 

Ow.

I throw up the metal with a blast of fire.

My spewings fly and hit a man in the leg.

I vomit again. The boy holding onto my leg cheers

As I inadvertently hit the man in the neck.

Sorry.

The shards of metal escaping from my mouth are applauded

Time after time as they injure people.

I’m a sick joke. I expel further, into the face of a small child.

He has sad eyes. Now they cry bloody tears.

Monster.

My throat begins to burn, singed from the fire in my belly.

With the force of a giant, I’m ripped apart.

I am bathed and given a cool drink.

Soothed.

In my heart, I know I am the car and not the driver

Who hits and kills the cat. Still, I am guilty.

Why am I alive? What purpose do I serve?

My heart is aching: life after life I take.

I feel disgusting, no bath can wash me clean.

No matter how I feel, gunmetal cannot cry.


© Copyright 2017 Stormy Aura Llewellyn . All rights reserved.

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