Bullets...

Deep within the living crust,

sleeps the molten steel.

Awaken the morning of distant trust,

for heat, to hold, to heal.

Alas! They melt, they sting, they scream.

The pure is perished like acid on gold.

Although they are dark they continue to gleam,

inimical, demonic and cold.

Each tapered body points to affliction,

Strapped and hitched row on line.

But the shooters heart is in dereliction,

and in no position to resign.

So shells explode ; the world is on fire,

and God ceases to reign.

Men marching, caught in barbed wire,

withering and lost in the pain.

And how they target, they fly,they kill,

piercing the flesh at a blink.

The shooter stares as the enemy goes still,

His eyes...

They sink.

They sink.