n0t a waste 0f space.

bullets: a slam poem (?)

shhhh...don't talk about gun control

silhouettes whisper to me

"you'll trigger some backlash, offend some beliefs"

okay. i won't.

instead, i'll talk about bullets.

torpedoing, tunneling through my thoughts.

let's talk about death, the thing we're afraid of

that chokes kids that walk hallways,

before they even learned to fear its name.

demand power, protect loved ones,

the bullets whisper as they whistle by,

burying their poison into our children's minds.

why don't we talk about screams,

screams that gut the air, nuclear bombs,

splitting atoms and tearing reality, fabrication of the cosmos, thinking

"this can't be happening to me."

screams that sound like loss.

we ignore the tears, the tidal waves

that build up, drip, drop, drip, drop.

we discuss legislation, statistics, and numbers,

fight over laws, rights, control.

the issue at hand isn't the weapon, it's the hands

and the holders we condemn.

oh wait, i forgot, can't talk about guns

can't trigger emotions so we'll aim for their sons,

meanwhile, nothing gets done

let's talk about bullets instead of the guns.