"The Gun that I Am Carrying
Means an Embrace to my Love"
I
In the shadows of twilight, where whispers dwell,
I carry my weapon, a tolling bell.
Not for the heartless, nor for the greed,
But for the promise of freedom, for those in need.
Each cartridge of the bullet, each click of the lock,
Resounds with the echoes of a ticking clock.
It speaks of the struggle, the battles braved,
For every soul silenced, for every heart saved.
Marina, my love, in the light of the dawn,
Your laughter, a melody, a hope gently drawn.
This gun in my hand is a burden, it's true,
But its purpose is clear—it’s a vow to you.
When the night stretches long, and the darkness looms,
I fight not for glory, nor for empty tombs.
I fight for our children, for dreams yet to bloom,
For the freedom to dance, to laugh, to assume.
In the heat of the moment, as tempers ignite,
I carry your spirit, your love as my light.
Each bullet a promise, each shot a decree,
That the world will remember, that we will be free.
So I march through the shadows, my heart open wide,
With the weight of this gun, I stand firm by your side.
For every embrace, every tear that I’ve shed,
Is a tribute to love, to the path that we tread.
In the chaos and clamor, as the tempest rages,
My heart beats with fervor, as history stages.
For the gun I am carrying means an embrace,
A love that will conquer, a fight we will face.
II
In the dust of our streets, where shadows conspire,
I bear this gun close, a flame, a desire.
Not for the tyrants, nor the chains they weave,
But for the laughter of children, for all who believe.
Each bullet is history, each chamber a cry,
For the land we remember, for the dreams that won’t die.
It whispers your name, Marina, my light,
In the depths of this struggle, in the silence of night.
When the dawn breaks with sorrow, and echoes of pain,
I fight for our story, I fight through the rain.
This weapon, my shield, is a promise held tight,
For every heart yearning, for every lost fight.
In the alleyways where hope flickers low,
Your spirit ignites me, as the winds start to blow.
This gun is not violence, it’s a voice that won’t break,
A testament to love, for our children’s sake.
With each step I take on this hallowed ground,
I carry your courage, your heartbeat profound.
For the olive trees whisper the tales of our kin,
And in every embrace, we rise up again.
In the fire of struggle, as our spirits entwine,
I march for our future, our freedom, divine.
For the gun I am carrying means an embrace,
A revolution of love in this sacred space.