Quick-draw heart,
an ever-overwrought gun
set to rock and roll
when triggered.
Small thermonuclear
mouth, hardwired to blow
when coupled with
strategic command ears.
Hands, not as deadly
but as willing to bash and bang
as the rest. Eyes, tossers
of darts and daggers.
I’m an armory waiting
to be raided. Waiting
to be looted and then have
my weapons turned against me.
Dark Matter 
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