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Gideon 3d
Your questions have
been selected carefully.

Like bullets in a gun,
they are loaded.

“How are you?”
Shoot me once.

“How’s your job?”
Shoot me twice.

“How is school?”
One by one.

The bullets land.
Wear me down.

Break my heart
and my skin.
Gideon 3d
Your questions
So carefully
Selected

Like bullets
In a gun
You loaded.

Bang bang bang.
They only stop
When I am dead
My existence is non-existent;
Life, is just a puzzle of reasons,
trying to connect the conclusion
to your own existence.

I should feel eligible, close to
The means of incredible, even if
I can't read all of the signs of being
illegible; devoured by time, feeling
so edible.

                                                        ­   Their tears are threads tied to a soul,
                                                         Like falling rains – all emotion pours,
                                                    Highs are weighed down by many lows
                                                           And a tongue is as lethal as the gun;
                                                         the gun still lives within these laws
                                                   So permission to shoot a shot; fall in love
                                                 but keeping the charm to impress in-laws.

                                                   Extra bullets for bullet holes,

The heart surely practices having kids
Before having kids; it’s just sad to see, kids
Raising kids – as the family needs don't
really show what, "family," means– just
another short story of familiar griefs.
Odd Odyssey Poet Jul 2024
I feel so alone in a world that loves to **** itself,
As I need a gun, to truly feel like I belong;- filling
Up its cold chamber holes, in this revolving world
Six monumental shots, ready to **** myself…

Bullet 1: the war on drugs, is just a war with ourselves

Bullet 2: the war for land, is just a war with the world

Bullet 3: the war for peace, is a war in which death
   will only be the truest peace we’ll know

Bullet 4: the war for survival, is a war of stealing
   and killing, for that desperate dollar

Bullet 5: the war of the flesh, is a war between sanctifying
   the temple, or satisfying myself in lust’s power

Bullet 6: the war of identity, is a war of fighting against
   all the alleged titles- in order to find my true self
Andrew Rueter Jun 2022
I wish I could take everything true about the world
and put that into a gun to shoot into the youth of America
but I guess they're already receiving a satisfactory education
when normal bullets teach us all we really need to know.
Raven Feels Jun 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, no white the rest just black:\


reason to a reason faith held one capture
applauded reaches to fallen devils may fracture

prisoners of grace in ten hells same
on cedars that know no angel to not shame

one beat on the downtown line
once in twenty life times

stars align hailing pain
scars betrayed the blood of a shed stain

haunt a child of a pure soul no more
shadows chased for a find of bullet core

if money were on trees
then lands are leaf free

look the eye no lie
to a scratched unhidden cry

poison spreads a four feet stare
is it even of those a matter of fair

royal flushed they think a game under the rugs shipped
rushed hearts a lifeless drink on mindless sipped

ashes called out happy hour not shredded unlit
double vision as grown as useless as toxic as it

dropped corpses the live left to ache
hurt silenced been forever drowned on stake

worst of a future misery
crusted crumble like nothingness a cemetery

thunder smells
plaster lacked on dwells

I may not blurt wounds
because these things are
not nursed doomed

I know the knuckles of the cursor when I see
an everlasting torture painting smudges dancing in same place selfishly



                                                                              -------ravenfeels
GQ James Dec 2020
You put your trust in the one you think you can trust,
Then it turns out you can't trust em,
That trust is more lethal than them bullets in a gun,
You can run from them bullets,
You feel them bullets harder than a heart attack,
They both can **** you,
The question is which is more fatal.

If that bullet hits you inside your heart,
You're pretty much dead,
You're heart is the most fatal,
Without your heart you can't live,
Nothing compares to a broken heart,
The ones you love the most hurt you the most,
It's less painful not to care.

All that pain made me cold,
The only thing I care about is family,
My mama more than anyone,
Heartless what I've become,
I can't feel nothing,
My EMOTIONS have been faded.
THAT HEART IS MORE FATAL THAN YOU NAY REALIZE. WITHOUT YOUR HEART YOU'RE DEAD.
Sarah Flynn Nov 2020
I used to be addicted
to the feeling of a blade
pressing into my skin.

I used to be addicted
to seeing those red dots
forming a ****** line.

I used to be addicted
to my own blood and
the relief it brought me.

I used to be addicted
to metal.


the world must be addicted
to the feeling of power and
violence and destruction.

the world must be addicted
to bullets in brown flesh
and mothers' cries.

just like I was, the world
must be addicted to blood.
its iron still tastes metallic.
it's still red.

just like blood,
guns also taste metallic
when the barrel is
in your mouth.


the world and I
have different views,
but we have one
thing in common.

we're both addicted
to metal.
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