Ignited Poems

Bullets

Their stares are bullets bouncing off my confidence.

Ricocheting from every direction.

Denting deeper each time.

I study my shoes, my head cast down,

Waiting for the bullets to stop.

The thing is, they won't,

The bullets will always come at me.

Everywhere,

From everyone.

Who see that I'm not good enough,

Not strong enough,

To face their bullets and not back down.

Do they know what their stares are doing?

They laugh behind their hands as if it hides them.

But I know it doesn't.

The bullets tear through their hands.

Eventually, thay turn away,

Bored of me,

Bored of my failures.

They go to find new prey.

To destroy their confidence

With their never ending bullets.

I move away,

Try to get away,

Just to find more shooters with bullets of their own.

I hide away from them,

Just for a second,

Trying to fix the sheild that is my confidence.

They reload their guns,

Waiting for the next oppurtunity to fire.

Knowing that it'll come.

It always comes.

The final bell rings,

Like the beggining of a wrestling match,

Another oppurtunity for them to shoot.

I move away,

Wanting to get home,

The only place their bullets will never reach me.

My shield is damanged,

Far beyond repair,

From the bullets they shoot far too easily.

I try to mend it,

Unbend it,

Smooth out the denrts that are in it,

But it's no use.

Their bullets have done its damage.