A Small Piece of Metal
I close my eyes and picture what it would be like
I wrap my hand around and hold on tight
I feel nervous and unsure
It is cold to the touch but looks mysterious
It's body holds paths of its own guided by its curves
I hold it and ponder what i should do
How will it feel I ask myself?
Will it be quick and painless?
What if this doesn't do it?
What if I still live?
I point it and pretend to pull
Such a tiny thing has so much power
The question is who has more power me or this mysterious piece of metal?
Will I be a coward or will I follow through?
Will today be the day?
Is it heaven or is it hell?
I stare at it and it stares me back
It is like it is calling me out to see if I will follow through
It asks me what my plan is and I answer back that I am still debating
Anne Jones's Other Poems
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(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
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Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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