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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Dark · #2195439
Trying to make sense of what can't be understood...
Dense


Armed and undermedicated.
Feeling unappreciated.
Wandered onto the bridge to see.
How fast the water under me.

Couldn’t know what I was thinking.
Eyes wide open, never blinking.
What was I doing with a gun?
Never imagine shooting one.

Oh, now I get it, now I see.
The gun was never meant for me.
Not that any of this makes sense.
Depression makes you think so dense.

Talked me down, off the wire.
I could not have gone much higher.
Took my gun which lead me to weep.
Silenced the voices, I can sleep.


Help me help the others, I say.
There’s so much more to do than pray.
Prayers won’t make it go away.
Bloody knees do not heal the pain.

We’ve done things we can’t imagine.
Burnt into our minds like acid.
Done for reasons we did not ask.
Once we started, we did the task.

We put out our hands, not for gold.
It might be held to simply hold.
To feel the warmth, we never felt.
As we battle the gates for hell.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2195439