I put this gun to my temple just for you,
My finger carressing the trigger,
I'm letting go of a world that doesn't need me,
Once you let go of fear, it doesn't hurt, You'll see,
Cuts could never compare to the steel of a gun,
A bullet longer lasting, cutting deeper than my razor,
I slowly pull the Trigger,
Antagonizing anticipation,
The bullet finally escaping its cage,
And into a new home of blood and rage.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful. Describes the feeling perfectly.