Gun
When I first laid hands on it,
I fell instantly in love,
It seemed like the world to me,
It had so much power.
Yes rifles have power like cars
Tugging a trailer behind,
The guns are made for american pride,
But some people don’t like it on the demoncratic side.
Guns are held in the soldiers hand,
As he fights for his country,
They’re held in the hunter’s hand,
As he tries to bring food for his family.
Light as a feather from a eagle,
But in the wrong hands it seems evil
This poem is about:
My country