MY NAME IS PATRIOTISM

my thoughts on if patriotism was a person

He gashed my hand upon a rock 

The jagged tool bit into flesh

tearing

ripping 

it away

I began to bleed ; profusely

The blood was red blooming like a rose

white like eggshells 

blue as the darkening waters

It rang with the sound of bullets 

each drop a fresh round

It pierced their ears 

with the agonized screams

and  the crippling pain 

of a dying man

It painted the ground

with excrement

and empty shells

of bullets

He looked horrified 

and tore his shirt

Bandaged the arm

and threw down the rock

He found what to be inside 

me not as beautiful 

as he thought 

 

Reviews

[Trigorin]

Not bad, and you have a clear image here which you present fairly well. I get the feeling the ending is just a little bit too simple compared to the buildup it's been given by the rest of the piece, but that's up to you. Well done.

[Andie]

Nice.
I got a really good picture in my head. :3