Sometimes words are bullets
severing something
just important enough
to leave a trace behind
and they get it out
leaving tissue damage

sometimes
the bullet can't be gotten out
it's too close to something
important
and it swims about
for the rest of your days

sometimes
through the chaos of war
or the mess of human error
the bullets come from our own gun
and it's so close it breaks through your back
and hits another behind you
and then you are both left to bleed
on the floor
hoping
that someone might find you.