Bite The Bullet

by Steven Kenny

Monday 13th September 2010 2:24 am

Sitting with the gun,

Staring at its dead black eye,

a cycloptic reaper.

The end of all things,

Just a finger stroke away.

Yet still I linger.

Do I greet the end?

Welcome the darkness gladly?

Stop the sorrow now?

Perhaps I should wait,

Pray for better tomorrow,

A much brighter day.

Can future hope be,

Enough to stay my finger?

A hollow promise.

A decision made,

Barrel against my temple,

I bite the bullet.

Bullet

◄ Same Old Tired Shit

You ►

Comments

Isobel

Mon 13th Sep 2010 18:16

A very dramatic one Steve - you seem to be strong on this kind of impact poetry. Have never contemplated it myself - though a few may wish I had...
Pulling something other than a trigger normally helps the spirits immensely. Great take on the theme! x

Cate Greenlees

Mon 13th Sep 2010 11:37

Another clever way of interpreting the title. You get the idea of impending doom over well here Steven. Contemplating suicide is a dark and terrible place to be in.
Cate xx

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