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Rated: E · Poetry · Satire · #1742863
Somewhat satiric account of our friend, the grenade.
My agent is a time machine,
a thing that ticks and tocks.
My helper almost never thinks
but beats the use of clocks.

Fire floods with stealth and blood
to reach its' awaited plight--
My time machine, I hope won't fail
or I'll be forced to actually fight.
© Copyright 2011 Rebecca (original4once at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1742863-Grenade