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She cuddled him like only a mother could, her life giving bossom and womb were not enough to sway the barrage of bullets, the one thing her neighborhood never had a defiency of was bullet and low morals.
As she was pulled away, you could see her porcelein caring face crack and she left it their in the pourous gravel. She felt her helplessness and then she felt something else. It was a feeling that crossed the chasm between love and something that you just wouldn't want to desribe because it would scare you.
It turned her around, it was a revolution and she was now a revolutionary and remixed with something else that no one could connect to. She was disconnected and disconcerted.
She was more than bullets and when everything is said and done, we should all have been.
