My Father held a Gun



My Father held a gun, and I did not feel safer

It hurts to picture, its not fair that this

Engrained in my brain

Engrained in my brain.

I was in the bathroom

Running late

Seeing Death in my love’s hand

Who is a part of me and a reflection of myself

Who lives many lives and impacts many more

Those images never leave the confines of my mind.

And my love

My love of my father

My hate love.

My pure love

My mother

It is the past but is also the future

It is done for me but not for them

But its better?



We are the children

We are lookers

And thinkers

And the copiers

That gasp for air

Reality is thin

This is my fear

That love will not win

As I stare frozen with this fear

In the bathroom

And it seems like nothing

Another minute

I’m gone

Here I am, in class

My mind is still in the bathroom

With the fear

The gun, my love?

They pass me in hallways unaware of my fall

This morning I witnessed the timeless question

Will love conquer all?


This poem is about: 
Our world


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