This is ots, soooo...yeah. It's definitely not my best stuff. Crits would be welcome! I'm thinking of trying to turn this into a poem to turn in for my Creative Writing class. Enjoy.

"You can't just stand still as they shoot you,"
You explained. "You'll die every time."
In the wells of my mind, and just behind my lips
I answered, "Oh, don't be so condescending."

But the truth is, I can't avoid the bullets.
They come in the form of songs
And the most benign of words.
They spit from a knock-you-on-your-ass gun--
The kind Tueting told us they used on the Filipinos.
Or maybe it was the Japanese...?

Don't feel sorry for me. Your musicians fingers
Could never wipe away every tear,
But the aesthetics of salt-water running down my face
Sometimes melts the tenseness in my limbs.

I should wear thicker armor, I know,
But I don't know of a store where I can find it.
And until I do, can I ask you, once again,
To lend me the strength of your body?

And baby, when you leave, even then,
I promise I'll be okay.
But I can't promise I'll dodge every bullet.
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
Last edited by ArdentLogophile at Apr 9, 2008,