The tick of the clock has settled
As the light drains from our eyes
We're holding the weapon
We can choose to decide

Do we go out burning in a fire
Scorching those who think to fight
Or do we go out in a bang
Leaving behind a deafening stark
Either way it'd be the worst way to survive

You sigh; you'd rather just die
I think we should take out the batteries
Our own bitter surgery
Your decision begs to differ

© Sam Hunter