Bulletproof Vest

I died with my bulletproof vest on,
shot in the side like a dead man,
ricochetĀ from the fireĀ of the burn,

it sears me so.

The metal hammer sends down a nail
five-thousand strong
in my side. I feel it flowing out of me.

What good does this vest do, my body
not protected now; never was, never will.
This vest was just a ruse of sorts,

false hope in a dangerous world.