A revolver has been blasted and cried for its purpose,
Bullets are boosted into the super still sky, how disastrous!
The guns commit selfish acts due on the day they conceive,
Then they beget and discuss another life, another day to achieve.
...
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I understand the idea. But I don't believe it translated as well as it might have. This means I cannot recommend this poem. Just unfortunate. GW62