Bullet:

Standing here

In the middle of

This road

Gravel beneath

My feet

Love in my heart

But a pain in

My side

Walking

Is dragging as

Painful

A wet

Heat slides

Down my

Hip onto

My pants,

My shirt

Is soaked

With it

And I am

Weakening

Walking

Slower,

Unwinding

Like a wound up

Toy

Slowly becoming

Exhausted

My vision

Blackens

And I fight

The siren’s

Call

To sleep

I do not

Feel my

Body

Even

Hit the

Graveled

Road

Hours later,

I am found

Yet I am

Looking

Down on

Myself

And the

Grubby farmer

I no longer taste

The copper

Or feel the

Throbbing ache

In my side

I’m looking

Down on myself

Watching the

Farmer grab

My wrist

But not feeling

His touch

Just a light

Pressure on

My arm

Then I watch

Him rise with

A look of

Dismay

I look upon

Myself

Noting

My face

Colorless

The grubby

Farmer had

Rolled me over

Before checking

For a pulse

My face was

Staring up

Almost directly

At me.

The farmer

Has driven

Quickly off

And I look

Down on myself

I see the blood

From the night

Before,

I recall the

Cabin

Not a mile

From where

The farmer

Found me

I remember

My little brother

Turning to me

Gun in hand

Then the

Sound of

The bullet

Release

And the

Touch of

Metal

Flying

Into

My side

Me dropping to the floor,

And waiting for my brother

To leave the cabin

Then me struggling

To rise

No just a fight

Between gravity

But with this

Torn piece

Of flesh

That didn’t

Wish to go

On living