My father was a bayonet.
My mother was gunpowder.
I was born
as a bullet fired from its chamber
aimed at the enemy's heart.
Cautious eyes never see
my burning hands before I
rip them apart
for I do not know what I am doing.
Agressive fists swing
toward my barbed wire skin,
but even the luckiest hands
lose their fingers.
I am not a time bomb
set to explode;
rather, I am shrapnel
from my bayonet father
and my gunpowder mother.
So, if you get too close
expect a fallout
and listen for my voice
in the reverberation:
I do not know what I am doing.
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 10:15 PM UTC
My father was a bayonet.
My mother was gunpowder.
I was born
as a bullet fired from its chamber
aimed at the enemy's heart.
Cautious eyes never see
my burning hands before I
rip them apart
for I do not know what I am doing.
Agressive fists swing
toward my barbed wire skin,
but even the luckiest hands
lose their fingers.
I am not a time bomb
set to explode;
rather, I am shrapnel
from my bayonet father
and my gunpowder mother.
So, if you get too close
expect a fallout
and listen for my voice
in the reverberation:
I do not know what I am doing.
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