Put it down.

Her itching fingers on the trigger.
She wishes the gun was only bigger.

It was made to match her self esteem,
It seemed.

The gun was pointed to the sky.
She didn't truly want to die.

Because she was scared
of the ending.
Was it pain?
Never-ending.

Because on that day
She let it lay.

Then never looked back.
Liar,
she looked back.
But only sometimes
and only to show what she lacked.

And with her itching fingers on the trigger
Suddenly the gun seems bigger.