Save Your Bullets Poem by Paula Glynn

Save your bullets, for you're just a sore loser,
Take your gun and throw it away,
Because I accept no threat lightly,
I won't give you peace and forgiveness,
You need to forgive yourself,
For you are digging your own grave,
Your gun riddling the innocent with bullets:
Innocents that will come and get you.

I don't care for your snide remarks,
And manipulation: you couldn't,
Manipulate a snake off a tree,
So now before you riddle my body with bullets,
You'll have to deal with me,
And that saying is true: the greatest coward,
Hurts the most ferociously.

You think you need a gun because you are weak,
You stay out of the sun, because love is a word,
You can't speak: the night creeps all you have,
You should be afraid, because I'm not,
Your gun couldn't scare anyone off a horse.

I have my popularity and strength made:
All you have left is to be alone and afraid,
For your enemies will trick you and use you,
They will leave your body riddled with bullets,
And all the world will be nothing but stone,
Where no angel comes to rescue you,
In your loneliness, in your hour of need,
And no amount of overdosing on speed,
Will help you: no drug can.

You are walking the path to hell,
A place I once knew well,
But I am not that person anymore,
I do not sweep floors for a pittance,
Grieve all you have now lost,
For those dead bodies will be something,
That for you will cost.