January 20, 2016 10:30am CST
A recent poem by Jabo about prostitution reminded me of one I had written a while ago after seeing a photo of a boy holding a rifle. It is even more relevant now as we learn about children being stolen and trained to be terrorists. It only took a bullet To blast his life away; A sudden crack, my father fell And motionless he lay . I watched the birds rise screaming Too late their warning cried. It only took a bullet The day my father died . It only took a moment , My life changed at that sound; I knew I would not grow into A man to stand around Who waited for a bullet To bring about his end. . My hand would be upon the gun – A bullet for my friend.
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