I died with my bulletproof vest on,
shot in the side like a dead man,
ricochet from the fire of the burn,
it sears me so.
The metal hammer sends down a nail
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.