This is a poem about the feeling you get when you have nothing but unconditional love for something that no-one else cares about.

This is my rifle,
And I shoot with it,
She's pretty big,
She's in 5.56,
Her clever bullpup design means,
That her STANAG magazines,
Are always close to my heart.

She is my gun,
And we operate,
Her plastic parts,
Won't biodegrade,
And the thing about a gun like her,
Is the world only says harsh words,
But she never says a bad word about them.

She is my weapon,
And I shoot with her,
I often try to clean her down with oil,
To get her I had to pay a fine,
And give seven years of my life,
But she's paid that back, on more than one time.