The gun

I hold it in the battlefield

I hold it in the streets

Its rusty metal like a broken heart

Its smooth metal, as cold

The coldest steel
Flashes in the light
As it sends its victims
Into eternal night

The coldest blood
Flows through the veins
Of

Guns

These twisted machines made of metal,

In the hands of the youth, minds unsettled,

A container of blood, a mental kettle,

Bang, bang, you're dead
nothing asked, nothing said
Trigger pulled, it is too late
slamming of an iron gate

Innocent, guilty,

Thousands from now

Western Civilization pushed the button long ago

New peoples, familiar land

And then some kid finds a