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These words are from the other side.

Well, I'd write them if I were there.

Just look at them, 

I don't think they truly want to die.

There's nothing wrong with breaking off a piece to share.

If it's your skin then let's play truth or dare.

Because you wouldn't do it,

trust me.

I was there.

A girl who was only taught how to run,

 her heart knows only shame.

A man who carries around his handgun,

his hand is the one to blame.

Loneliness lingers long after the last blow.

Her kindness frowns upon everyone around her.

Her eyes look like rusting metal against a winter's snow.

Aged moisture settles in her mind, 

and turns her sand into coppery-brown rock.

 Blood pumps; yes, they are blue.

 Her veins are looking slightly sedimentary.

She ponders her life in the hands of her country's military.

Better off or far worse?

 Affecting a mourning family like a black hearse.

Reviews

[Found and Lost Again]

Man, I can just feel a roar of emotions tumbling out of this poem. Your descriptions paint amazing imagery that really translates well into a more visceral form. If I was to make one complaint about this it would be the rythym. In parts like the 4th stanza it feels amazing, but especially earlier in the poem it feels like you could cut a word out here or there. Maybe I'm reading it wrong though. If I am then some extra punctuation might be helpful to remedy that.