Paper Columns

Bullet wounds

Legs like bullet wounds
And a spine like sharp knives,
Walking is not always easy.
Do you daydream about it too?
The ever lasting hope of flying above clouds.
You can't put a piece of glass to my throat,
And tell me life isn't unfair.
Who are you to judge my pain?
But how am I to stop you?
We are no gods, no heroes,
We're just flesh and blood,
Pain and too much love.
Love doesn't pay the bills,
My mother said,
And it certainly doesn't heal
More than what it breaks.