Author's note: Hey! It's been so long since I've last updated. Unfortunately, I think I might have to take a hiatus on the Elementals. Anyway, I think I'm going to be writing more poems. Forgive the crappiness of it. It's a spur of the moment thing and "Man with a Machine Gun" is the first thing I thought of when I opened my laptop. Its no reference to Laguna from FFVIII for those Final Fantasy fans out there... Machine Gun is just a metaphor I used to relate to something violent and intimidating for more dramatic purposes. Well, yehey:)
Man With a Machine Gun
Man with a machine gun
tall, upright and strong.
He'd surely study everyone
as they pass him right along.
Man with a machine gun
so steadfast and unmoving.
He guards his gates so faithfully,
his firmness is unnerving.
Yet somehow behind those hollow eyes
that continue to stare straight ahead,
is a calming light and gentleness
that is often left unread.
This man with a machine gun
so long has been standing there.
He guards his gates that never open.
What that was, no one asks. No one would dare.
Some people just pass him by
while others take a second look.
I, myself, do confess
I've glanced more than I should.
Oh, man with the machine gun
what fear you strike to men.
Your most magnificent of arms
has feared them all of death.
Has no one ever come so close?
Does your gun take them aback?
What really does lie beyond those gates?
Why dont you show the emotions you seem to lack?
I, admit, I probably should not have asked
but it was so compelling to find out.
I wanted to know the reason
and what the machine gun was all about.
I then spent my days to visit him
the man with the intimidating stance.
Although when you looked at him
there was laughter in his glance.
Stories and tales then flowed from my lips
as I tried to get him to open
but he continued to stare straight ahead
yet I still continued. Hoping.
The man with the machine gun took no noticed it seemed,
he still held his arms all day.
I could only wish he was listening
as I told him my stories when I stayed.
Months have gone by and I've finally stopped.
All hope seems to have died.
I now watch him from my window.
He would not put down his guard. Believe me now, I've tried.
Dear Man with the Machine Gun,
why do you not wish to leave?
Will you never open up those gates?
For anyone? For me?
I had hoped that I was getting there.
His stare diverted on some days.
Sometimes I could feel him watching me
I could feel his warm, unmoving gaze.
But he never moved, not even twitched.
Sometimes he stood his guard all the more.
He was decided on not letting anyone in.
And knowing that just made me sore.
Then, I realized
what must be going through is mind.
There must be something beyond those gates
so important to disclose from behind.
Oh Man with the Machine Gun
what pain lies beyond?
What forces you to take up your arms
and to let yourself be shunned?
Dearest Man with the Machine Gun,
who never leaves his gates
there must be some miraculous way
for him to let me in... someday...