by Allen Dusk

I stare at the chrome as it glistens in the light.

What the fuck has led up to this night?

I count the rounds as I load them in the chamber.

How can I ever fix all this sadness or control my anger?

I place the barrel into my mouth and savor
its awkward cold and oily flavor.

I close my eyes and pray to any God that’s listening,
will I go to hell or will all be forgiven?

I slowly inhale my final breath
and rest clenched hands against my chest.

All the while I ponder what my ears will catch as their final sound,
will it be the gunshot or the splattering of my blood upon the ground?

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