Children shouldn't play with guns.

Look as this gun.
                It's calling out to me.
    But what does it say?
                                  "Child, do not fear,
                      "I am your friend."
        So what fear should I have?
                                        But it's cold.
The metal against my head.
                              Softly brusing against my hair.

Dried tears on my face.   
                      Choices that had to be made.
                  And this will end fast.
                                                                    Click.
Bam.
                            Thud.

The blood?
          Oh the blood.
                      The pain?
                                No, she is numb.
                                                The fear?
                                                        None had existed.