A Choice

A girl.
A gun.
A girl and a gun.
The girl lost in a deep depression, looks desperately down at the gun.
The gun useless, in need of being fired, looks longingly up at the girl.
A matched pair.
A full set.
The girl and the gun.
Each begging to fulfill the other's need.
At least as a Band-Aid to their pain.
But when you look deeper.
The vision is different.
The girl ends in purgatory, lost in her pain forever.
The gun ends in an evidence lock-up, never to be fired again.
So now I beg the question?
Are they one another's answer?
Or are they just another wrong choice?
A girl.
A gun.
A girl and a gun.
A choice.

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