I Am Gun Poem by Rickardo BecklesBurrowes

Chemistry built of brilliance braced against implosion
the sun rescinds, the air is perfumed by yearning,
while little explosions inside - calm the coming storm

a storm raging of lust, lungs blowing hot lights
across a land of hard edges. Dulled by the immediate,
unaware this disabled spark was waiting.

Life seemingly a square shape for this round heart
rubbing each other the wrong way. Rushing the need to pull the hammer,
cocked with words, wisdom full of hope still; this weapon waits.

Time will bellow for the moment, weaker than it's span
wondering if the world around will spin faster than the bullet
sitting, watching and smiling inside this weapon.