Finger-Loaded Gun

One of my older poems. Not at all a mockery of suicidal people. Just my feelings on those who grab attention through being "depressed" and it truly annoys me.

Gun made of fingers,
Point two to your head and your thumb to the sky.
Those suicide threats,
They're all lies.
Feeding your illusion,
You poor misunderstood child,
You're given everything,
Yet you're grateful for nothing,
How can you live your life wishing to die?
When you won't even pick up the metal,
fix your own lie.
Those pictures on myspace,
Showing tears on your face,
They're all just blue makeup,
That I can erase.
So pick up your pencil,
Draw them back on,
Pick up your stupid finger loaded gun.

Author's Note

Again I state this is not a mockery of suicide. It is never the answer.

Reviews

[Wolfwind Words]

This was brilliant! It's holds a lot of frustration and the imagery and flow brings across the feeling powerfully.
I couldn't agree more...

Great Ink!
Wolfie