There is a hair trigger
On the gun aimed at my heart
You ask me to stop
But I tell you to start
But with the 99 sinking red balloons medafored
As my sands of time
I try my very best
To hold them up with rhyme
But now the infectious waste known as my heart
Is building up and it will begin to ooze
Which means that my time is running out
And I swear to you I will not loose
Then there is you
What your thoughts are of me
And weather or not you care
Is a blatant mystery
*Crack* goes one balloon as it reaches the ground
Rattling my body and popping a vein
Now I'm walking down the tracks
Just waiting for a train
Suddenly I hear a sound
A train I hope is true
But with a sigh of relief and a heart held trigger
I see that it is you
I finally get my chance
On a day with the skies so blue
Walking down the tracks
I have 98 red balloons for you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem