You ride a bullets hind and chase,
A human tomahawk always smart and unfazed.
The target keeps on changing,
Terrain always bewildering.
You don't control anything.
You are a bullet fired, there is nothing called returning.
Every single moment your lead is accountable,
To penetrate every target, and not loose your momentum,
There is no moment you can rest on the past kills made,
Because the bullet is not made to retract into a shell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem