"Bullets are a lot like words, it doesn't matter what size or how many there are.. Because all it takes is one to blow your mind or pierce your heart.."

There had been 3 murders in our small little town. All the same. As if a lion had torn them all apart.
It was early fall.  Oranges and rust colors begin to fill in the trees.  We were not allowed to go out because of the creature.  
If indeed it was a creature.  At least that's what we called it in school.  I had a theory! It was a Ware wolf.
One day my brother and I took all the silver we had.  We took it to Old man Johnny and he turned it into a silver bullet.
He was like a wizard! So finely crafted it was.  He engraved it with our initials.  S.O and D.O.  
We kept the bullet in a small little bag.  Under all of our comic books.  If one day the Ware wolf does come we will be ready.

I don't expect someone to take a bullet for me,
But I expect a friend to pull the trigger.

I hold in all my sorrows,
and listen to people ****** whine,

you're having a hard time,
but I'm begging my whole body to stop the urge to cry.

and you put me down,
and my eyes tear up,

This is why I shut everyone out,
this is why I cried,

all alone,
by myself,

He sprints across the field
Navigating obstacle after obstacle
Addiction, illness, depression
Bits of him flying off into the distance
His hope, dreams, will
He's falling apart, getting smaller
Propelling himself forward regardless of his destruction
The finish line is a bullet
There is no applause

Dead men dance through my dreams
Singing a sickly song
Telling me that the light is gone
I want to drink down his favorite poison
Help me hold on to those tiny shards left behind
Let the taste of liquor remind me of his intoxicating presence
Dead men with silver tongues singing and screaming in my head
Was the bullet enough
Did it ease his pain

You are dangerous
A weapon of destruction
A gun

And yet I still wish
To be your bullet
Your only one