Seven Targets Poem by Casey Lindbald

I saw her shoot down six out of seven targets.
They were shaped like people.
I was about a head shorter at the time,
Which made those targets about my height.
They had hands by their sides
And feet that looked like they had been tied together.
I shot down less than half the targets she did.

She got mad at me.
Apparently, I kicked too much in my sleep.
'Let's tie your legs together, ' she suggested.
I thought to myself, 'Excuse me?
Can I just sleep without being tied up? '
I was going to tell her no.
But then I remembered the targets.

I tied my feet together with a bungee cord.
It meant I had some degree of control.
But I was still afraid
And still in one position.
I had my hands by my sides
And my feet were tied together.
Just like the targets.

She complained the next day
That I moved too much, even with my feet tied.
I never shared with her again,
Always thinking of the seven targets,
hands by their side and feet tied together.
Six mowed down by her bullets to the head and chest.
I was afraid to be the next target.