Post by Kabal on Mar 30, 2006 5:56:54 GMT -5
I laugh...Bound to a fate that throws anything in my path to tempt my destruction,
I can see the instrument it brings me too...
How funny, to find this gun, and even moreso to find just one bullet within... Do I dare give fate the conclusion it has compelled me to since I was a child?
I cherish the feeling of it, the weight, the nickel coloring, the walnut grip, the .45 caliber bullet, patiently awaiting the time it will be used...
I take the bullet out, and rest the barrel against my temple...
The cold metal soothing against my burning skin, I stare at the bullet, faithful and loyal it would serve me, even unto my own demise. I pull back the hammer, the action is smooth, this instrument of destruction has been well taken care of... I wonder who would abandon such a fine work of craftsmanship?
I can hear the bullet, calling to be returned to it's home, I oblige it, and place it in it's proper place.
I trace every part of this weapon... memorising the detail... Tempted to keep it, and even more tempted to use it, but with one bullet? How can I use only one bullet? Ah... is THIS what fate is telling me?
I move it against my temple... Pull the hammer back once again... I close my eyes....
"click..."
I never replaced the bullet back in the revolving cylinder... As anyone knows a Bullet's proper place is not in the gun itself... It is in a place where it can do no harm...
I may suffer, but death is no option... and no temptation can blind me.
Because there are those who depend on me, and I shall not be failing them.
Not this day, not the next.
Tomorrow I shall be selling this instrument of destruction, wrought in cold steel, and armed with lead.
Perhaps a collector shall find it, and keep it from killing again. Because I refuse to do evil's will, the temptation of self-annihilation.
And when God himself does finally call me back to him, he can't say I didn't work hard,
Because living is the hardest thing I've ever done...
But I still do it.
I can see the instrument it brings me too...
How funny, to find this gun, and even moreso to find just one bullet within... Do I dare give fate the conclusion it has compelled me to since I was a child?
I cherish the feeling of it, the weight, the nickel coloring, the walnut grip, the .45 caliber bullet, patiently awaiting the time it will be used...
I take the bullet out, and rest the barrel against my temple...
The cold metal soothing against my burning skin, I stare at the bullet, faithful and loyal it would serve me, even unto my own demise. I pull back the hammer, the action is smooth, this instrument of destruction has been well taken care of... I wonder who would abandon such a fine work of craftsmanship?
I can hear the bullet, calling to be returned to it's home, I oblige it, and place it in it's proper place.
I trace every part of this weapon... memorising the detail... Tempted to keep it, and even more tempted to use it, but with one bullet? How can I use only one bullet? Ah... is THIS what fate is telling me?
I move it against my temple... Pull the hammer back once again... I close my eyes....
"click..."
I never replaced the bullet back in the revolving cylinder... As anyone knows a Bullet's proper place is not in the gun itself... It is in a place where it can do no harm...
I may suffer, but death is no option... and no temptation can blind me.
Because there are those who depend on me, and I shall not be failing them.
Not this day, not the next.
Tomorrow I shall be selling this instrument of destruction, wrought in cold steel, and armed with lead.
Perhaps a collector shall find it, and keep it from killing again. Because I refuse to do evil's will, the temptation of self-annihilation.
And when God himself does finally call me back to him, he can't say I didn't work hard,
Because living is the hardest thing I've ever done...
But I still do it.