Tasting Bullets

In this bittersweet banquet of existence...

the sharp tang of violence mingles,

with the lush, warm perfume of ripe fruit..

as if every scar on my soul

is brushed by the delicate blush of peach petals.

I wander through midnight’s labyrinth,

where echoes of loss and hope too entwine

and the taste of bullets is not merely Ughh pain.

it is a stark reminder that even in darkness,

the gentle grace of beauty endures.

And the pain of duty tastes bullets.

Amid the ruin of silence,

soft peaches spill their secret sweetness,

their tender flesh a fragile testament

to moments once bathed in light...

a stark contrast to the cold taste of lead.

In the union of cruelty and candor,

I find a strange alchemy, hmm.. a whisper of redemption.

for in every metallic bite there lies

the promise of life’s tender harvest,

an eternal echo of light amid the fall.

As I wake up again, as you call

my name stands tall behind the wall