A Bed of Bullets

This bed of bullets on which I lie
is adorned with roses, fortune and fame.

The prick of the thorns I do not feel
for the bullets you fire are meant to kill.

The riches that blanket me chill me to the bone
when beside me you lie with gun and dagger.

Everyone sees you under the bright lights
but in your bed you bully til dawn.

Upon this bed of bullets I must now rest
til tomorrow comes and Truth will rise.

With the Way, the Truth and the Life
bullets and daggers and lies have no power.

So give me roses to prick me with thorns
and my tears will be collected in a bottle.

Let your words target and attack
for they cannot pierce what Love deems intact.

A bed of bullets is my life with you
but by the threat of death I will not be overcome.

The one and only Way, Truth and Life
came from heaven to conquer hell.

Today you may hiss, spit and flail
for when tomorrow comes your day is done.

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2 thoughts on “A Bed of Bullets

    • Thank you, Peter. To be honest, there are times when I write and I am “in the zone”. I write without volition it feels. And then I look at it later, and it renders me speechless. In those moments, I realize the words do not come from me, but from the hand of Love. Amen!

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