This is a poem I made based off the inspiration I got from playing, Fallout New Vegas. Loved the game, so I made a poem based off of some elements in the game. The gun is a way of life in the game.
The world of tomorrow is a curse, knowing that my ability be tested,
whether willing never be rested,
some never be known, and always be quested,
to gun the rest as all will be bested,
a faulty soul,
despair is kept in sight, but out of mind.
Where the ghost stands vigil as the weak man,
or the shadow withers as the plant in the desert,
no matter your mind or place, the choices of the world make you the victor or the victim.
As you grow as the cactus does, so does your will, and such will be weak until the tempered blade of the world comes upon thee, the searing burns of such a blade hones the mind until it is weak, fragile, that is where strength may arise once again.
Weakness comes before strength, loss comes before victory, and life before death.
Anything can happen in the eyes of the gun.
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