It's 1: 00 am and i get ready for bed,
I walk to my room,
Flick the switch,
I walk to my closet to grab my pj's,
I turn around...
And he's right there,
Outside my window,
Staring in at me.
When he notices that i had seen him,
He turns around and walks away.
I later hear the door handle,
Some one trying to break in,
I grab the gun from the hall closet,
And run to my room,
I lock the door and hold it tight.
He walks towards my room,
breaks the door down.
I have the gun ready and cocked,
Aimed for his head,
He takes a step forward,
I say 'stop where you are or else',
He takes another step,
And says 'or what you'll shoot me',
I reline my target,
Finger on trigger,
He takes two steps back,
And ran out the door.
I couldn't believe it,
He was scared of me.
A little girl with a gun in her fragile hands,
And he's scared of her,
Maybe it was what was behind me that scared him,
Or maybe it was me with a shot gun.
I don't know but he took off and wasn't heard from again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem