Oct 05
M.C.junior's picture

The Toy

The Toy
Gun to my head,

Counting the seconds, and every breath

Not sure which will be my last 
My heart running faster than the bullet of sweat going down my face

Hands shaking as if I was meeting death for the first time

As I start to feel the moths in my stomach
Trying to understand how something so wrong can happen so fast

Trying to understand how I managed to get caught

Trying to manufacture an adequate excuse to get out of this situation
Then the perfect one comes to mind

I have to use the bathroom

As my dad smiles at me, takes his cowboy hat off and I remove my feather 
And run to use the wild wild west 

If only life was that simple again

When a gun was just a toy

M.C.junior's picture
About the Author: M.C.junior
Eric Patterson Jr