There once was a man,
His name is not important,
Just know that he’s a guy.
He once went to war,
or rather he WENT to war.
In training,
He had to fire,
Not set fire
Not blow fire
Not eat fire
But rather FIRE,
FIRE as in creating a .54-inch hole
in paper heads.
But then he came to the trenches,
And it was his turn to fire,
At the enemy
Yet he could not,
Yet he could not
Yet he could not
Why is that so?
We do not know.
But all we need know….
Is that he ends with a .54-inch hole
In his head,
That was created by,
The enemy.
(I know this is so clunky of a poem btw, like I wrote this real quick for fun)