Four Men

there are four men inside of me
and they are always at war.
the boys drink their whisky and
plug big round red holes of hate
in each other. when they get
low on ammo they patch each other
up, pass around the bottle and
take potshots at passerby.
after awhile they make enough
to go buy some more ammo and
whisky. when they leave I run
out and pick up the shells.
if I hold one up to my ear
sometimes I hear me whispering.

Workshop if ye be men of valor, for the entrance to this cave is guarded by a creature so foul, so cruel that no man yet has fought with it and lived! Bones of full fifty men lie strewn about its lair. So, brave knights, if you do doubt your courage or your strength, come no further, for death awaits you all with nasty, big, pointy teeth.