The bullet and the gun, copper and steel, the squeeze of the trigger, the rush of adrenaline.
We're taught the bullet and the gun is an extension of us, reach out and touch someone they say.
In Iraq, the bullet and the gun was a way of life, here it most surely means my death.
Over there the bullet and the gun plays politics with innocent lives, while at home the innocence lost is realized.
In war it is a shame when the bullet and the gun go unused, in peace it is a tragedy when it is.
The bullet and the gun, once so easy to use, now seems like an only option.
I once felt safe with the bullet and the gun, now their coldness dangerously caress my lips.
I thought the bullet and the gun was to protect them, but now I think it is to end to the misery I have caused them.
22 brothers and sisters find refuge in the bullet and the gun everyday, I fight everyday to not be one of them.
And yet the bullet and the gun calls like a siren in the night, tempting to be used while screaming "why" to the flashing of red and blue lights.
The bullet and th...
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