deepundergroundpoetry.com

Trigger Finger

Some days
I wake to the tremors
Of a slow, rhythmic drum
Leaning my head against the barrel
Of a fully loaded gun.
It’s an endless, hopeless feeling
That the rope will never end
There are vultures in the distance
 Expecting to ascend.  
You want me to come back?
Another round with my crippled soul?
You want another chance, you say,
Without me you’re not whole.
I know exactly what I’ll do
I‘ll reflect on it all night
And when the morning comes
I’ll give in without a fight.
Some days
I wake to the tremors.
Of a slow rhythmic drum
Leaning my head against the barrel
My trigger finger getting numb.  
Written by PerfumeandTaffy
Published
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