I lost my father a year or two ago,
I'm always off by one.
And the rage I feel
Is a warm, loaded gun.
Searching through crowds for who
Will dare speak wrong to me.
Smiling at their shattered nose,
Teeth red as we both bleed.
Waiting, Watching,
Like it was all a thrill.
Until one day I realized,
I just wanted to feel.
And when I finally looked over
At the other end of the gun,
It was me, just a daughter wishing
For one more chance to go fishing for fun.
About the Creator
Amy
Writer of my thoughts and emotional babble. Storytelling is my hobby.
Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts5 days ago in Longevity
Comments (3)
Excellent story ♦️♦️♦️
Wonderful
Nice story dear, well written