Received at the tender age of two,
It is fake
Again at the age of eight, a new model but still not real
Now he’s taught that the gun is to kill
At fifteen a still newer model
But this time to hunt
At seventeen a better one yet
But this time it’s really out to get.
Not the deer, the rabbit, or a tin can
This target is a human man.
Shipped over to a far away place
Start shooting at every different face.
Died at the age nineteen with the gun that started his death at two.
This child could be any one of you.
THIS WAS MY VERY FIRST PUBLISHED POEM IN 1967!