Does A Bullet Worth To Kill You!

Does A Bullet Worth To Kill You! short poem

Photo by Moyan_Brenn

Take cover!! There they are!
Hold your fire we are running low
Bombs are wet, grenades empty
I hate this way of fighting…
Never let your riffle fail
Keep your bullet straight
your eyes firm on enemy’s chest
Shout in anger if you like this killing
To kill or getting killed
Remember your oath
you made for your country-
To die at such a young age
They will cover your coffin
With color and flower
They will lit fire in your memory
Only You will not be remembered
Your dust will be waiting for revenge
But dead never comes back
Does it worth… does it really…
Does a bullet worth to kill you…?

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 4.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

1 Comment on "Does A Bullet Worth To Kill You!"

Notify of
Sort by:   newest | oldest
Nadeem Qazilbash

A question that needs a lot of asking, in these times of push button, remote, easy wars.


Love Of You

Love Of You prose poem

I have found the love of you deep within my past searching for light is only you I see true I have found the love of you so dear and heart to render the glow of the deep sky blu

Is This How You Love?

Is This How You Love? short poem

You have no problem leaving me behind. You can easily put me out of your mind. It’s like my presence puts you in a bind. I bet every time you see me you wish you were blind. You told me

You Don’t

You Dont prose poem

I’m scrunched in partially obscured view seating, hands at my temples, elbows pressed to the balcony rail. Look up, Sherman Alexie! I squint through borrowed glasses, willing your signature pen to drop, your writer’s eyes to find me. I’m cheap.

Pretty Pictures Pretty Ribbons And You

Pretty Pictures Pretty Ribbons And You long poem

felt faint inside from the heat of the day I fell down on my knees to pray thought of those memories from a time ago Christmas was spent under the mistletoe hugs & kisses with everything new Pretty pictures pretty

The Gift Of You

The Gift Of You prose poem

I haven’t been able to sleep. What you said, perhaps just offhandedly, perhaps not really caring at all, has me wide awake lost in those silly impossible dreams and longings that overtake my being so often. You cannot know how