life is a gun, you point and aim
you try to destroy, then start the same
yet the gun is rigged, with a distinct device
the gun turns on you, scattering mice
a bullet through them, returns to you
your pain greater, red blood blue
backfires on holder, now he's dead
because the bullet he shot, found his head.

Copyright 1999 by Susanne Estelle Hendrickson
4/3/98