The cold metal chills my palm & fingers,
sending electric jolts through my body, & I shiver.
The weight is almost too much to handle,
not only of the gun, but of the options I hold in my hand,
it seems to be dragging down my arm & my heart.
I finger the bumpy texture of the grip,
and I think about my life, my mistakes, my memories.
A single tear drips down my cheek,
and I raise the deadly heap of metal to my temple.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and I keep them locked tight.
I try to swallow, but the it feels like barbed wire.
My finger tenses slightly on the trigger,
testing my courage.
My heart drops, and a prickly rush of sweat floods my body.
My hands become moist against the grip of the gun,
its slippery and comforting at the same time.
I gently tap the barrel of the gun against my head knowingly,
and smile softly in relief.
Because I know....I'm in control now.
A contest entry
- the biggest prewrite contest ever by serenity silvermoon.
900 points, ended January 18, 2009, 345 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comment please?
Comments
1 - 17 of 17
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Great Cadybabii. I know that feeling. You just want to know that if you want to, you can end it all. <3
~ToxicLove.
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Thanks :]
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You're welcome CadyBabii. Btw, love your picture. Life likes screwing everyone over.
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>.> Has me squirming in my seat. Can't tell if it is the poem or the subject matter. Prolly a combo of both. I detest self mutilation and suicide. If squirming is what you wanted then, yes. Good job.
I'll leave another comment later once i know what your style is to critique more.
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Well, it is a little or both, your right.
Basically this is me, trying NOT to actually do it, so I write it down....a form of therapy.
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And darling, I've proven that you can.
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Whatever, I dont agree.
But I believe you, if you say so.
:]
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Oh my dear, but you can.
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no no nooo...
Tested theory.
Proven..
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You can bleed just as much and hurt just as much with a razor, trust me. I know.
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Not true.
I disagree...You cant get a deep with a razor...
but know whats fun? get a rusty old old old razor thats dull and cute, so much pain.
Then, spray hairspray in it.
Thats pain...
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Maybe for you it is.
For me, it's perfect. -
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I need something bigger, more painful that makes deeper cuts, and makes me bleed more...
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Ugh.
At this point, I feel exactly the same. Except, it's a razor to the arm for me.
My breaking point is terrifingly close.
Great poem, though.
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Exactly.
Mind is too, except...I think Razors are for sissies...
I use a knife.
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Excellent
Wow what a deeply intense write this is with so many great discriptive words the poem played out like a film in my mind. Love the way the poem ends with the reader having to decide whether the control is that of death, or perhaps the acceptance that the trigger will never be pulled. Great write keep up the good work
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Oh, wow.
Thank you so much!
Your comment was wonderful :]]
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