My Screaming weapon,
sleek with perfection,
has a fully loaded clip of aggression.
It leaves streaks when I'm stressing
and stains that will teach a lesson.
It has untold confessions
forever locked in the chamber section.
It's pulled when things are hectic and I'm sweating,
second guessing if lifes a blessing.
I don't know what's next when
my heart stops flexing,
muscles stay forever resting
as does the hand thats grasping
the black capped ink-filled plastic.















Comments
--
Take a knife to my chest; if you're brave enough.
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