Properly Guided Click and Bang

In front of us foolish youths

Were replicas of a metal hand.

With only one form, it stood:

An upward thumb,

A forward pointer,

And a folded remainder.

They were close to the real thing.

They never released the full sting.

But I could feel a heavy weight

When one of them met my hands,

When my fingers carefully danced,

And whenever I moved to aim.

Some youths laughed with theirs,

Some tried to make them twirl,

And some thought that they were awesome with them,

But while I held my hands’ extension,

I could feel ghosts

Even though I actually couldn’t.

Perforated bodies stood around me.

Their fountain spouts were quite messy.

Cold air embraced my skin.

It seemed like their hands were touching.

Crying and screaming rang in my ears.

I could hear them begging.

The scent of a damaged blood vessel

Was magnified to levels that I’ve never experienced.

My mouth dragged itself down

As it tried to resist the foolish crowd.

Today’s lesson was a massive fate-changer.

Fools will die

If they failed to realize

The metal hand’s true power.

I do not want that to happen.

I do not want them to die.

I do not want these youths

To be like the ghosts around me.

Every click

Reminds me of flame fading from a wick.

Every bang

Reminds me of bodies crashing into land.

Every instructor’s command

Reminds me of the ghosts guiding my hands.

I have never held a true metal hand yet

But today’s lesson taught us how to handle one

So that we can use them to shield ourselves

And shield others as well.

Even a replica of a metal hand

Should never be treated like a replica.

The ghosts taught me that.

“Defend, not destroy.”

“Defend, not destroy.”

“Defend, not destroy.”

Dear ghosts,

As I aim and fire at sin yet again,

Help me keep my pointer on the sin

And keep it away from the captive’s existence.


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