Gunpowder
I have gunpowder in my chest
instead of a heart now,
and it escapes my lips
shaped like a bullet
with your name on it.
Soft people become dangerous
when you destroy the things
they hold dearest.
👁 5💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.