Today I shot a gun.
I aimed at the middle of the heart
stared down the lane
took a breath and
fired directly
at the
target.
The target didn't have a face
or a name
It was a blank canvas
And I painted your features onto it
And God,
Oh god...
did it feel good to fire at you.
Six-year-old me would've been proud
for doing what you should've done years ago.
Now my target looks like your heart.
Full of (bullet) holes.
f.m.s.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 12:41 AM UTC
Today I shot a gun.
I aimed at the middle of the heart
stared down the lane
took a breath and
fired directly
at the
target.
The target didn't have a face
or a name
It was a blank canvas
And I painted your features onto it
And God,
Oh god...
did it feel good to fire at you.
Six-year-old me would've been proud
for doing what you should've done years ago.
Now my target looks like your heart.
Full of (bullet) holes.
f.m.s.
