The Bleeding Gun Poem by Koushik Goswami

I got them guns when I was thirteen
With passion so keen
The steel was cold, but it felt so warm within,

I used it the first time, when that idiot called my name
For I would have been out silently with the stake
It had just began, how could I ever let him end the game.

I took them by dozens, lives and all those came along
Swears and curses, last laughs and cries
Blood and brains, rooms with blackened blood all around

I knew someone watched from within
Though, in the streets I walked like a king
My life too I know, like a ball on a thread, was just hanging

The last carnage is still alive, in my mind like thunder light
The bullets I shot are back on me and from the pain so keen I cannot flee
There is no escape from the monster, I myself have so far been

I am used to bloodshed, an eye for an eye; we are gangster, no fear to die
Useless wars I have fought so many, with no remorse or agony,
But he should not have been there, pointing guns and giving me a leer
For I had something more to protect, more than my life my pride I guess
The lord of the guns, how I can I ignore, I had to calm my mind so sour,
I got him easy though he tried to escape finally
Shooting that boy of thirteen is now killing me, killing me