There once was an old gun that lay on a table, This gun lay alone, broken, and empty One day a flower was brought to the table The flower was beautiful and brightened up the room; such flower brought company The next day a few bullets were laid beside to the gun and the flower The bullet provided motivation, power, a reason for existing The last day the gun was fixed and no longer broken The flower-covered gun is now fixed, contains feeling, and isn't alone.