I Didn't Kill You, She Did...

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I have always dreamed of being a toy train.

Spreading smiles on happy boyish faces

But have I ever drawn a smile on a face?

Of course I have…hers

 

But…I didn’t kill you, she did

Who else choked me with venomous bullets?

Who else stiffened a death grip on me?

Who else aimed? Shot? Killed?

 No…I didn’t kill.

 

I didn’t kill you, her fear did

A fear of control…or lack of

A fear of love?

A fear of forgiveness

Has she faced her fears?

No, she made me do it.

 

I didn’t kill you, her anger did

Fueled with hatred…with determination

She pulled the trigger

And her scowl blossomed into a smile…

An evil, sadistic, and ugly smile.

 

I didn’t kill you, her supremacy did

And who gave her the authority to control me?

And who made her my mistress?

Who said she can decide how and on whom to use me?

And who made me but a slave?

 

I didn’t kill you, my weakness did

I tried to keep the bullets in

My murderous children yearning for blood

Oh my futile vain attempts! How helpless was I?

And now, as they rested quietly in your heart

I watch as you yet again die,

Along with many others.

 

I hate the smell of leather holsters

And the smell of lead and smoke

I hate her soft fingertips

And the reek of her sweaty palms

Don’t ask me how I feel about the smell of your crimson blood

I’m already rooted in self loathing.

 

“Would she ever let me go” you ask?

That I cannot answer.

Would I ever die I ask

I pity you when you die

But secretly I wish I could die

Be killed even

 

Guilt is worse than any feeling

I am tired of killing.

I am tired of slavery.

I am tired of being a gun.

I just want to be a toy train.

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