|
A Savage Projectile
|
|
by Steve Gaines
|
|
|
|
A savage projectile through the air,
|
|
|
|
Is it meant for me?
|
|
|
|
It denies the me who I am,
|
|
|
|
For I cannot be, without my pride.
|
|
|
|
The object stings as it plunges into its destination,
|
|
|
|
My soul.
|
|
|
|
Funny, how a word,
|
|
|
|
Pains so deeply.
|