AR-15

The moment I shook your hand, I fell in love. You are my inspiration, my undreamed of. The feel of the scorpion recoil grip the follows the indent of my relentless fingers. Never wanting to let go. Telling me where to grab like it controls me. Telling and agging me on trying to force me to alleviate my pain. I tame it. I control it. I have all the power. Without me it contains no power which society always disagrees The groove of my shoulder sinks in with more indents, more pressure, filled with the stock. Giving the beast, the monster more reinforcement. The meat of my finger patiently waiting on the safety The other on the side above the trigger. I peer down the iron sights, cold, and still. Looking for the red, then white, then red again. Circles. When my eyes give the affirmative to my mind, My mind gives the affirmative to my finger. My index slowly and cautiously moves over the trigger safety. I gave myself the good to go. Breathe in slowly. Breath out. BAM! Trigger squeezed tight and body tensed. Bullseye! Mind and heart filled with adrenaline. The moment I shook your hand, I fell in love. You are my inspiration, my dreamed of.