Bullets

Composing bullet 

points,

Shouting 

in my head;

only to realize

I’m not dead;

still silent,

under the surface.

Obedient

to nothing,

to sympathize

with quiet,

by offering

the coins

to the carrier.

So scary,

but still delightful.

He is so mindful.

Across the river,

to the abyss;

to find peace -

so true…

The only bullets

I ever wanted

are points,

no other meanings.

The new beginnings

to join

me, haunted

with new reality...

Image credit: @palyanov