Finger Gun Poem by Adarsh singh
Finger Gun
Joining both middle and
index finger
making it into gun
pointing to the head.
Things thought to be
of no good,
came back alive
Numb feeling in the heart.
Rising of the abyss in
chest cavity,
something sinking in.
Finding self out of place,
out of society, touch.
Not liking anything that
try to give joy.
Like hating Happiness
itself.
All these things leading
to make a finger gun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/28/2026 10:51:28 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
