The Gun.

He picks me up from a dusty drawer
I’ve seen those tears before.
Depression has taken a toll on this man.
He shakes with me in his hands.

The cold metal from me warmed with every touch
While he contemplates how this world has been too much.
I hope he doesn’t do it this time.
I know his life hasn’t been sublime.

He places his finger on my trigger.
I watch as the tears in his eyes grow bigger.
“Please don’t pull it” I think one last time
I let out a BANG- I realize I’ve been used for a horrible crime.

I fall to the floor as his body relaxes.
I wait patiently as time passes.
I hear a quiet voice calling his name
Her world is never going to be the same.

More tears and more pain.
Another life; suicide claimed.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem