May 18, 2019

My loaded gun lies at the table,

Cocked, ready to fire.

I thought I could employ it,

But never un-holster it.

Then circumstances change,

Chambers overheat,

Triggers emerge from angst,

And suddenly a target is in range.

-------------------------------------

I believed that gun was worth it

When first brought through the doors.

I pampered it, worshiped it,

Made it our centerpiece.

Somewhere along the line

I paid little heed to its powder

Or to its ugly function,

Essential to its reason.

------------------------------------

Now, we both stare down the weapon,

Wondering about its fate.

Will it turn itself in on me,

Make me pay for its place on my shelf?

Or will you want to possess it,

Unaware of its design flaws?

Which of us will dodge the bullet?

Which of us will live to tell the tale?

--------------------------------------

When the bullet discharges,

I hope it misses you too,

But I see no such resolution,

When the projectile's path

Plows either through your head

Or deep inside my heart,

The foulest of destruction

From such a mean little piece.