Dec 06, 2009 22:41
The Gun Experience
He thought it was a good idea,
He thought it would be fun.
If he taught me how to use,
His fully loaded gun.
And they asked me if I did it,
So I took his gun and hid it,
And they believed my story, so I feel no need to run.
He made me keep his secrets,
I keep them very well.
He made me sware on my own grave,
That I would never tell.
And he may be up in heaven,
With all his sins forgiven,
If not, it's almost certain that I'll follow him to hell.
Beside his grave, I tell them,
"He was filled with doubts and fears.
He had felt a thousand heartaches,
He had cried a million tears.
And in his mind, he was imprisoned,
And it's good that now he isn't,
He's probably more free than he has been in all his years."
So, there's a glimps into the more messed up parts of my mind. Like my prrevious poem, this one was also based on a dream I had, but rather than being very concerned about this fact, I saw this particular dream as an excelant writing oppertunity. What do you think, do you see it the same way?