Bulletlove shoots through

a vacuumed out atmosphere

tangled amongst soft clouds

chariots for angelic archers

shot down from above

hellfire of oxytocin and

shellfire of toxic dopamine

a ballistic force, love,

like a bullet shot from

you to me, now amazed,

grazed by a flesh wound

a forever testament

that love can hurt,

bleed through the threads

of the impermeable,

bayonet through walls

of inner security

leaving you ready for

the slaughter, but


clemency shines,

and squadrons

drop bombs on your soul's

concentration camp, left

with a flesh wound and

a deprived body of

batted bruised bones

love feeds, and nurture

tired woes

but often times

bullethole souls have

no home, so

love sends hurt fed men

to roam incomplete paths

into a depressing jungle

bypassing somthing beautiful

because some shots

are often fatal

die young and loveless

falling love falls

behind finished time.


- Julien Grey

This poem is about: 
Our world


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