If people could see what I could see.
If they could see past the layers of roughness that I have Amassed.
If maybe they would see past the iron sights of the rifle that is me.
If they went down the barrel of the gun they would see
That I am more than just a machine that fights and cries.
I am a human too.
I am not just a weapon that fires bullets of violence and dark humor.
I’m like a ship in a bottle.
It takes trust and a steady hand.
I have been dropped by many but yet my pieces lay intact
for someone who cares to rebuild.
The sails of my life have wind, filled from the wrong direction.
And then my bottle smashes.
My farm that I grew up on.
The happy memories I had there.
They are sold away along with it.
It’s a package deal I suppose.
And now all that is left is a white cross where it lay in my heart.
But I still stay strong.
So I should put the shovel down and leave it.
And now when I feel the pain of the past.
I Treasure it.
Because it made me who I am now.
But that is just me.
All I am is a ship in a bottle.