Notes About The Poem
This is a true poem about how my siblings took Joy and amusement out of shooting me with And air gun when I was very young. And how I could not tell anyone I still have the Metal pellets in my legs to this dayove 30 years Later.

Shot with an airgun

Shot with an air gun just to make me run.

Shot with an air gun just for fun.

Shot with an air gun just to see me fall.

Shot with an air gun just because I was small.

Shot with an air gun just because I was weak. 

Shot with an air gun just because I didn't speak.

Shot with that air gun couldn't turn to my father 
Or mother. 

Because the one doing the shooting was my own
Big brother.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2023

Poem

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Rodrigues Avatar
December 4, 2023 at 12:23 PM
People with weapons seem amused by their power but the gun should turn its finger and poke the terrorist…brothers especially love to taunt. Doesn’t sound like fun. I was the older sister and my sister said I was unmerciful in tickling her. Though she did exact revenge with a thrown hairbrush and tattling on me. I love that brat ;) still sorry for your haunt.
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