Sisters of Bullet

We are the bullets shot
      Out crying through the cool night
My sisters and me,

From the ever ranging gun that is not our anger but we carry it.

Except,
   I did not hit or find any target to scar
like my siblings

No,
   I keep crusting over with blood
passing,entering,passing,hurting,entering,passing

Some fierce grip you had as your knees buckled and the oldest drenched,
you, with piss from bedside pasts

Rather than teach lessons, we roamed the dark to fill the unrelenting voids;

           bubbles so small inside each cell,between, that hungered for attention

I bit down to the moons just not to scratch,take my toll I thought I deserved
Maybe I should have.

      but my life is the story of ricocheting,bending back,crawling at your feet just to avoid what I could not mend.

Apparently I made her go away, the only bullet left in your gun

And I zoom on down, hit the pavement...