Title is your warning ⚠️

I do not know if a warning is necessary, buuuut…

not reaaally the prompt, but here’s to make it the prompt: The narrator was trapped in the water, while soldiers fired at them, waves crashed on them, and thunder roared at them.

Here ya go—

|__________|

Guns click, guns fire, burning skin and bone,

till every enemy fell from their high, high thrones,

till every child and soldier had collapsed in pain,

till every soul left realized no one could win this game.

The water of the past splashed with tints of red,

it held onto parts of everyone who had bled,

against what they believed, they fought,

till very death to whom they had been caught.

Guns clicked; they fired at the innocents,

those that swam away, knew their lives would never again commence.

It seemed to be destined for my friends,

as the fire burned on the shore, signaling lives’ ends.

The guns clicked, aimed in my direction.

They drew like sharks to the blood’s watery connection.

I don’t feel the red around me, I’m almost numb.

Once I was the smartest of all of us, now I’m simply dumb.

Smart people don’t wait for the guns to click.

They don’t wait for a wound to pierce and the blood to flick.

The guns clicked, they fired to the water,

as not only bullets came, but so did animals who slaughter.

The guns had clicked and they had fired,

but I waited for more pain until I felt on my wrists, wires.

A cold, cold wind splashed across my face,

almost as if the water from the memory of such a place.

I waited, but not because I was smart.

The memory of the guns had torn me apart,

till I landed in the cold, lonely hospital bed,

until short moments later, my soul had fled.

Just remember, the guns only _clicked _until I was dead.