Target Practice

Leftovers of their actions

Reminders of my own

Weeping memories of battles past

Angry eyes of glaring hate

-0-

The crumpled mess of broken flesh

Is all that I've become.

-0-

Following the whipcrack rebuke

Tearing into what's left of me.

What I've rebuilt since the last...

That previous and fearsome battle

-0-

Yet still, do not I carry on?

After every volley and with every dawn?

-0-

My blood is spattered across my years.

Ruby drops from gaping wounds.

Holes torn in very essence.

By the bullets of your words.

-0-

Perforated lungs

and riddled heart

-0-

Another shattered rib

One more murdered dream

With violent action I try to staunch

My life as it drains away

-0-

Yet my hands are gently pulled away

By my actions to my dismay

-0-

As many or more wounds that you have caused

The bullet holes in my fractured soul

Are mine alone

That only I can mend

-0-

Am I able to, I wonder though

Plug the holes that life has punched

-0-

On my hands my blood is red

In my hands the gun I used

To put these holes in my very soul

Beside and around the ones you caused

-0-

Bullet holes that might not heal

Even if I take the risk and try to mend...

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This poem was inspired by Poppy's January Challenge. I highly encourage you all to give the rules a read, load your own submissions, and fire them off to her.