I have always dreamed of being a toy train.
Spreading smiles on happy boyish faces
But have I ever drawn a smile on a face?
Of course I have…hers.
But…I didn’t kill you, she did
Who else choked me with venomous bullets?
Who else stiffened a death grip on me?
Who else aimed? Shot? Killed?
No…I didn’t kill.
I didn’t kill you, her fear did
A fear of control…or lack of
A fear of love?
A fear of forgiveness
Has she faced her fears?
No, she made me do it.
I didn’t kill you, her anger did
Fueled with hatred…with determination
She pulled the trigger
And her scowl blossomed into a smile…
An evil, sadistic, and ugly smile.
I didn’t kill you, her supremacy did
And who gave her the authority to control me?
And who made her my mistress?
Who said she can decide how and on whom to use me?
And who made me but a slave?
I didn’t kill you, my weakness did
I tried to keep the bullets in
My murderous children yearning for blood
Oh my futile vain attempts! How helpless was I?
And now, as they rested quietly in your heart
I watch as you yet again die,
Along with many others.
I hate the smell of leather holsters
And the smell of lead and smoke
I hate her soft fingertips
And the reek of her sweaty palms
Don’t ask me how I feel about the smell of your crimson blood
I’m already rooted in self loathing.
“Would she ever let me go” you ask?
That I cannot answer.
Would I ever die I ask
I pity you when you die
But secretly I wish I could die
Be killed even
Guilt is worse than any feeling
I am tired of killing.
I am tired of slavery.
I am tired of being a gun.
I just want to be a toy train.