Sorrounded By Death Poem by Alejandro Velez

We are the ones who make your head hurt.
We are the ones who deliver death to your door.
We are the cancer in your lungs.
We are the ones who make you hate us more and more.
We are the end.
The opposition will die.
Our bullets are named.
Ull end up running in sight
theyll end up crying to us.
Well never stop.
I inhale your hate.
I take away your interest in living.
Hear your shout coming closer.
See you take cover but fail.
Feel your tear drops on our shoes.
Feel your head squished by my foot.
You are nothing but a name in my bullet.
You are nothing but the target in my gun.
You are nothing but the waist in my boot.
You are nothing but the fear we lack.