Memories pop into mind like, A game of Russian Roulette. Each one, Anxiety-ridden. Sweat beads down my forehead at every turn of events. Never do I know which one will coerce me to pull the trigger, But, I figured, It’s a risk that must be taken. What other thrill do I have besides, Going through a photobook imprinted in my mind, As I pick at every corner stabbing through the edges, Ripping off everybody I, Don’t ever want to see again in my life? Hearing that barrel clicking is an image flooding through my eyes, As tears allowing me to feel emotions in a heart gone numb from so many nights where I, Cried…
Click… Click… Click… Click… Click… Click…
Who am I kidding? Never is the chamber loaded no matter how much my head keeps spinning. Violence isn’t, Nor was it ever, My cup of tea while I look for a reason to keep living. It’s the only reason I keep flipping, Through a set of pictures hoping I can smile at the only thing that matters. Myself… Regardless of how ugly the disaster…
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