Bullets, pointy and gold,
Come down, like shooting stars.
Suffer, to the one who sold
The first one; hit by thousand cars.
A tiny thing as this, can create
Destruction, demolition and sorrow.
Only sadness, tears and hate
Are seen, even in the morrow.
Peace, when you hear rain;
But this is a rain of bullets.
This could be the bane
Of my life, heart and brain.
--------------------------------------------------
Age: 16, Place : Germany
I have never heard shooting sounds in real life. Just stories of friends that did.
It was another incident back in my "homeland" that triggered those emotions of sadness and helplessness.
I remember being proud of this poem. Because although it's short I felt like it's powerful, still do..
What do you guys think??
YOU ARE READING
My poems
PoesíaA collection of poems that I have written over the years. It will also reflect my progress in writing and in life. I hope you enjoy it!!
