Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

Loaded Gun

The person standing in front of me, the same as the shadow that lingers behind me. The same as the refection in the mirror I always tend to see. I tell myself that it's killing me. The Stress. The Anxiety. The constant Pain I feel everyday in this Hell that I live in. It's A Shame, that the person I see standing there is someone that isn't who I'm meant to be. 

The icy touch of it against the palm of my hand. Like emotions built of steel. A trembling hand as it grips tightly to the handle. A light finger that cocks the gun. An aching feeling and pounding head. A beating heart and rapid breaths. Hold it steady. Point at me. A heavy heart that rests on the trigger. The warm touch of salty tears, running down a dark face. Bang! Bang! And the shots fire. One in the side and one in the mirror. Shattered glass across the floor, a pulsing pain. Blood running down the broken mirror. A trembling hand that drops the gun. Weak. Falling to the floor. I had done. Done my deed. I feel that.. The pain hurts so much, but yet it's too good to let go. My demon... Keep haunting me. My Anxiety. My Depression. Until the day I die. Hold the pistol against my head. Heavy heart upon the trigger. Asking myself, "When will I shoot? When will I shoot?" 
That loaded gun still laying on my night stand. Will I ever take out the bullets? 
Lay them where they belong. Will I ever find peace? Let it rot on that throne. Instead I sit, looking to that gun, the question still repeats, "When will I shoot? When will I shoot?" 
This Gun to end my misery.