The Gun
the gun is loaded like my head,
It's fire like my attitude,
It brings peace and pain at the sametime,
like I do at certain times.
I dream to get away,
like putting the gun up,
My life falls into shambles, like when the gun cocks back.
I try to regain my sanity.
I breathe hard blows out,
Like how the gun blows smoke,
I hope I don't choke,
Like the finger on the trigger.
I look at the gun like it's my life,
The gun resembles me,
But it doesn't control me at all,
sometimes it acts like my life, sometimes
I act like it. But it will never hurt me.
I own it,
The gun.
This poem is about:
Me