18+ A hard core poem, not for the weak of heart about being free of life. |
-Loaded On Wrong- by Keaton Foster In my hand A gun Death Release Sweet Jesus A 45 caliber explosion Right under the chin Shit, no way I’ll miss I deserve to die Always have Always will If not by my own hand Than by a dozen others Loaded on wrong Trumped up charges Made to stick Sick of all this There will be a mess One hell of a stain Maybe just a few Will feel some shame But of course not I Blam Entrance and exit Living and then dead Both in the same instant This powerful brain Hellish it has always been Fitting will be this end What was once complete Will become vacated What was once torture Will become quite easy I’ll have no regrets None that I’ll have to face I won’t feel sorry for myself Nor really anyone else Loaded on wrong Not because I want to be But because I have to be There is no real choice At least none That I’ve ever seen The hammer is cocked A round has been chambered They’ll be no missing No second chances At long since made mistakes The pain, once in my heart Over the years has spread Every corner of my being Infected does it seem The suffering is too much I can’t take any more Why would I want to One well-placed round Assurances guaranteed Reality blasted free Loaded on wrong Seems reasonable to me A madman with his gun Firmly placed under his chin Now Squeeze... Loaded On Wrong Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014. |