Dead Man's Gun
Isolated not in fear, but as I am,
permanently displayed in routine analysis remaining nothing extraordinary,
just an image of vulnerability.
Concept quite hard to bare,
to be seen as just another flawed statistic,
to find myself envisioned within
a solitary moment, target to be revealed.
Listen to myself,
my mind is broken, faultered overwhelming.
Memories blind of cruel exploit
penetrates deep inside, split wide open.
Rested not upon the ability to recognize
as in that which is placed into perspective-
to know all my intentions were clear.
To view as an epidemic deemed justifiable
in self destruction of plagued disposition,
defined disterbed my desire in escaped salvation.
Without fear exposed of hands grasp,
.45 cal placed just right, pull the trigger-
I wish I were dead.
Silent are the eyes that stare,
this is my life
all imperfections guaranteed.
Silhouettes dancing, ghostly shadow I cannot see,
dark pained relieved of cold sorrow.
Unearthed flesh torn apart,
wet stained crimson r