Poetry Analysis

Shoot

Original Poetry

Translation

Shoot

Fire

I was born with a gun in my mouth,

I was born with a weapon in my mouth,

With the barrel down my throat so that I couldn’t shout

With the barrel down my throat so I couldn’t cry out

For help and for savior from parents and doctors

For help and rescue from parents and doctors

That wants my safety but can’t see the danger.

Who want to keep me safe but don’t see the threat.

There’s a gun in my mouth, and I run my tongue along the edge

There’s a weapon in my mouth, and I move my tongue along the edge

Of the muzzle to feel the ridges I left

Of the muzzle to feel the grooves I left

On the metal from bite marks I gnawed with my teeth,

On the metal from bite marks I made with my teeth,

As I waited for the bullets to make their release.

As I waited for the bullets to be released.

The gun’s in my mouth, and the feel is familiar,

The weapon’s in my mouth, and the feeling is familiar,

The ache in my jaw and the sick, twisted thrill of

The pain in my jaw and the sick, twisted excitement of

Wanting the change, and wanting the bullet,

Wanting change, wanting the bullet,

And wanting the finger on the trigger to pull it.

There’s a gun in my mouth, and I want it to hurt, and I want to it to sting and I want it to burn

There’s a weapon in my mouth, and I want it to hurt, and I want it to sting and I want it to burn

As the bullet rips my throat in a blazing blow,

As the bullet tears through my throat in a fiery blow,

For at least it leaves a wound that I can show.

At least it leaves a wound that I can show.

There’s a gun in my mouth, but I’m holding the gun,

There’s a weapon in my mouth, but I’m holding the weapon,

And holding me down so that I can’t run.

And holding me down so I can’t escape.

There’s a gun in my hand, and it’s pointing at me,

There’s a weapon in my hand, and it’s aimed at me,

As I wait for the shot that will mark me free.

As I wait for the shot that will set me free.

There’s a gun in my hand and I want to use it,

There’s a weapon in my hand and I want to use it,

On the cowardly girl and the mouths that abuse it,

On the cowardly girl and the mouths that misuse it,

That hurt the gun by taking it as given,

That hurt the weapon by taking it for granted,

And holding the gun, yet waiting for forgiveness.

And holding the weapon, yet waiting for forgiveness.

There’s a gun in my mouth, and a gun in my hand,

There’s a weapon in my mouth, and a weapon in my hand,

And they both want the freedom the bullet will grant.

And they both want the freedom the bullet will give.

A shift in the hell of the stagnant waiting,

A change in the hell of the stagnant waiting,

An end to the rope that is already fraying.

There’s a gun in my hand, and I want it to hurt,

There’s a weapon in my hand, and I want it to hurt,

I want it to sting and I want it to burn,

As I pull the trigger and feel as the metal,

Rips through the chamber and finds my mouth to settle.

Tears through the chamber and finds my mouth to settle.

There’s a gun in my heart, and a gun in my fate,

There’s a weapon in my heart, and a weapon in my fate,

There’s a bullet I will shoot when it’s already too late,

There’s a bullet I will fire when it’s already too late,

There’s a hope in my heart for help and for savior,

There’s a hope in my heart for help and rescue,

From parents and doctors that can’t see the danger.

From parents and doctors that don’t see the threat.

Explanation

The analysis could not be parsed. Please try again with a different poem.

Word Dictionary

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Poet & Context

PoetSolape Adetutu Adeyemi

EraContemporary

Solape Adetutu Adeyemi is a contemporary poet known for her raw and immersive style. Her work often explores themes of identity, survival, and the struggles of modern life, using powerful metaphors to convey deep emotional truths.

Themes & More

Themes

Literary devices

Poetry Analysis

Shoot

Original Poetry

Translation

Shoot

Fire

I was born with a gun in my mouth,

I was born with a weapon in my mouth,

With the barrel down my throat so that I couldn’t shout

With the barrel down my throat so I couldn’t cry out

For help and for savior from parents and doctors

For help and rescue from parents and doctors

That wants my safety but can’t see the danger.

Who want to keep me safe but don’t see the threat.

There’s a gun in my mouth, and I run my tongue along the edge

There’s a weapon in my mouth, and I move my tongue along the edge

Of the muzzle to feel the ridges I left

Of the muzzle to feel the grooves I left

On the metal from bite marks I gnawed with my teeth,

On the metal from bite marks I made with my teeth,

As I waited for the bullets to make their release.

As I waited for the bullets to be released.

The gun’s in my mouth, and the feel is familiar,

The weapon’s in my mouth, and the feeling is familiar,

The ache in my jaw and the sick, twisted thrill of

The pain in my jaw and the sick, twisted excitement of

Wanting the change, and wanting the bullet,

Wanting change, wanting the bullet,

And wanting the finger on the trigger to pull it.

There’s a gun in my mouth, and I want it to hurt, and I want to it to sting and I want it to burn

There’s a weapon in my mouth, and I want it to hurt, and I want it to sting and I want it to burn

As the bullet rips my throat in a blazing blow,

As the bullet tears through my throat in a fiery blow,

For at least it leaves a wound that I can show.

At least it leaves a wound that I can show.

There’s a gun in my mouth, but I’m holding the gun,

There’s a weapon in my mouth, but I’m holding the weapon,

And holding me down so that I can’t run.

And holding me down so I can’t escape.

There’s a gun in my hand, and it’s pointing at me,

There’s a weapon in my hand, and it’s aimed at me,

As I wait for the shot that will mark me free.

As I wait for the shot that will set me free.

There’s a gun in my hand and I want to use it,

There’s a weapon in my hand and I want to use it,

On the cowardly girl and the mouths that abuse it,

On the cowardly girl and the mouths that misuse it,

That hurt the gun by taking it as given,

That hurt the weapon by taking it for granted,

And holding the gun, yet waiting for forgiveness.

And holding the weapon, yet waiting for forgiveness.

There’s a gun in my mouth, and a gun in my hand,

There’s a weapon in my mouth, and a weapon in my hand,

And they both want the freedom the bullet will grant.

And they both want the freedom the bullet will give.

A shift in the hell of the stagnant waiting,

A change in the hell of the stagnant waiting,

An end to the rope that is already fraying.

There’s a gun in my hand, and I want it to hurt,

There’s a weapon in my hand, and I want it to hurt,

I want it to sting and I want it to burn,

As I pull the trigger and feel as the metal,

Rips through the chamber and finds my mouth to settle.

Tears through the chamber and finds my mouth to settle.

There’s a gun in my heart, and a gun in my fate,

There’s a weapon in my heart, and a weapon in my fate,

There’s a bullet I will shoot when it’s already too late,

There’s a bullet I will fire when it’s already too late,

There’s a hope in my heart for help and for savior,

There’s a hope in my heart for help and rescue,

From parents and doctors that can’t see the danger.

From parents and doctors that don’t see the threat.

Explanation

The analysis could not be parsed. Please try again with a different poem.

Word Dictionary

—

Poet & Context

PoetSolape Adetutu Adeyemi

EraContemporary

Themes & More

Themes

Literary devices