Bullets

I wrote the below poem almost a decade ago for a creative writing class at my alma mater the University of Illinois. The Iraq War was still in its early stages and I felt the poem was rather apropos at the time I wrote it. I chose it as my first creative writing piece to share as I feel it is still apropos considering the events of this year. 

I hope you enjoy.

-Jarrod

Bullets helped to build this nation,
now they help to tear it apart.
They scream of hatred and anger,
sing a chorus of pain and fear.
The putrid smell of corruption,
lingers with the smoke they leave behind.
The path they take,
cuts through families and friends,
taking with them true love,
love that was never shown enough,
or unrequited love never declared,
and shattering hopes and dreams,
leaving them in fragments with flesh and bone,
reverberating a sad and melancholy tone,
of bitterness and regret.
And let’s not forget,
how they are, for some,
the last resort for a ticket,
from this place.
Created by those who make money
on death and destruction,
they stifle a mother’s cry,
or the conscience of the desperate.

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