A bullet is just a bullet
until it fires.
It becomes a life sucking hole
drowning in fear.
It consumes happiness
from both ends of the barrel.
As the victim takes their last breath,
the men on the hills move their gun to the left
and begin again.
A bomb is just a bomb
until it explodes.
Bursts of rubble captivate creators.
But leave the cockroaches looking for safety.
The victims are animals,
scattering around,
thrown from their feet.
A life isnt as important
when they are animals.
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