SHE WON'T LET ME
BY DAVID C.
i sit in my room
holding dad's .45,
savoring the good moments
in my last minutes alive.
dad kept his trust in me,
when he went away,
made me promise not to use it,
"for protection," he would say.
but when dad died in iraq,
his gun still on my shelf,
i knew he'd rather i rob a bank
than turn it on myself.
full moon out tonight,
blood red one, they say,
of all the nights for suicide,
today's the perfect day.
i cock the cold steel,
taste metal in my mouth,
when all at once my cell phone rings,
"munchies," by kottonmouth.
i put down the gun, and
dry my eyes,
'hope to don't ask
'can't tell my baby lies.
"hey," with a shaky breath
and a love that aches with pain,
because through good times and bad
she's all that keeps me sane.
she begs me to come,
as i put the gun away,
to talk to and hold her,
just like every day.
i agree, of course,
like i do every day,
but this time she knew, and
she won't let me die on my birthday.
Blog Category: Art and Photography
Playing (Music): nothing
Current mood: indescribable
Added on: 27/09/2007 09:03:02
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