Pull the Trigger

She falls down as the shot echoes and bounces off the walls.

Questions run through her bleeding mind.

She couldn’t take it anymore.

She was too broken to fix.

So she pulled the trigger.

 

Why oh why?

Why is there never a choice?

Not when you are broken.

It was the only one she could do.

Now this little girl is lost.

A heart that pulsed and loved.

Why take her life?

 

He sobs as he beats on the door.

Stuck alone again, the snickers echoing in his head.

He pounds the door open and pulls the gun.

He sets the note on his chest and pulls the trigger with a sigh.

He lay there, questions running through his bleeding mind.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

He was too broken to fix.

So he pulled the trigger.

 

Why oh why?

Why is there never a choice?

Not when you are broken.

It was the only one he could do.

Now this little boy is lost.

A heart that pulsed and loved.

Why take his life?

 

I hold the gun to my head, hot in my hand.

Both tremble as I cry.

I shout, telling them what they had done.

Telling them how now my body could join my heart in God’s arms.

I was stopped.

A little boy and a little girl stand side by side.

‘You have a choice. Choose life, or they win.’ they say

I don’t pull the trigger.

I let it drop, fall to the ground.

My sobs echo as I fall and yet rise.

Then I ask,

‘Why was I not good enough?

What did I do wrong?

Where is my choice?’

When silence answers me I answer for them,

‘I have it here.

No child will be taken today.

I am broken but not so broken I cannot be fixed.

I win.’

 

The gun was in my hand,

A hand that trembled.

And I did not pull the trigger.

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