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Poetry

Solace copyright 1998

Solace

Cold blue steel.
The herald of peace.
To an end to the pain building inside my soul,
Pressure unbearable,
With no way out,
Save a passageway created by lead.
In an instant of crystal clear depression,
Like windows in grandma’s house,
Decision made.
Barrel pointed.
The smell of oil distracts the hand,
An angel slips on the safety.
Fog clouds the mind, the soul,
The pain.
Life is bearable again.

 

 

 

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