The gun glimmers against the moonlight
He tries to contemplate what this life means
Maybe his heart will mend if he leaves this world tonight
Through the window the moonlight makes the gun gleam
Without a doubt the Glock will do the job
Feelings of emptiness and the pain will disappear
Tension mounts as his heart begins to throb
With all his careful planning there is little to fear
Clouds come and night goes black as death
Death patiently waits for the final action
He loads the gun and prepares for his last breath
With a loud bang, death smiles with satisfaction.
-Creed Short
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem