It’s strange for me…
I could be out of here in an instant,
Yet I stay and fight.
But I’m a coward.
So why is this gun in my mouth?
Why is my finger on the trigger?
The taste is cold and metallic.
I can feel the muzzle scrape against the roof of my mouth.
I imagine the bullet ripping through my brain.
It would be quick.
So quick that I wouldn’t feel a thing,
Wouldn’t hear my mothers sobs.
That would mean that they’d won,
That I’d just given up.
I put the weapon down.
I will go on living.
I will never surrender.
~Surrender, by Lexi Mitchell