For those who die on a battlefield
The last image flashing through their mind is a bronze bullet
A shot of deadly bronze richotteing from the mouth of it’s home
The man is the only sacrifice in the pointless war
What about the rifles that cause death
Or the bullets that are born for this purpose
The act of taking a life as well as the survivable of its own


Most people believe that
“The two most important days of life is the day they are born and the day they fulfill their purpose”
For a bullet
A killing machine
They are created for a deed
The most horrendous act of war
Cementing a permanent act
That haunts the killer with no blood on his hands


We are the soul
Me and my kin
My brethren
We, ender of life and destroyer of man
We are the soul
Of a gun
A rifle
A weapon with steel tongues and death promises.