Heavy it rests within my hand,
an object of formidable stand,
forged of iron, wood, and chrome;
manual function, monotone.
---
The elongated form, firm in my grasp,
The consequences not to be taken in jest.
The weight scarcely do I feel.
Beware, for the aftermath is real!
---
I feel its chill against my brow,
can hear my teeth chattering now.
Yet within, only sadness blooms.
I pull the trigger! The weapon booms.
About the Creator
We'z Walking on a Path Ruled By Numbers
This road has felt endless, yet limited; every step tracked. Inching away along this path, I feel trapped. Confined. Left to this narrow passage that may one day amount to something greater. Time is not a concept. Only distance. From start to finish, I laugh and cry and attempt to convince myself that this is worth it. I cannot stray. I must keep going. Every step etched, is a step taken, is measured as more than before. I cannot even recall how I got here. Maybe I don’t even really exist. Just another tick marking off a perceived presence. Of what though? I am just another line drawn. Nothing more, nothing less.
By Oneg In The Arctic3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
This was so heartbreaking and tragic! Such a poignant poem!