There's the acidic,
Cool,
And yet fiery taste,
Just behind my lips,
As the tears roll down bruised,
Blushing cheeks.
The metal is heavy between my teeth.
The thoughts are almost as heavy.
Those cruel words circle my mind.
That I'm better off dead.
That I'm better off quitting,
While I'm struggling to get ahead.
And I'd swear to you,
I'd sworn that it was the last time.
But the tears begin to mix with the saliva,
Dripping down my chin,
Into the muzzle,
And I realise that I could never pull the trigger.
© Karia FelWell