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Gunpoint May 31 2013, 11:50 AM

I never thought that steel would taste so sweet, By the end of the nozzle, I can taste my future blood, The horror drumming into my chest and my throat, Suddenly congested with gasps that won't break free, Hands trembling, seconds to think, Life endangered. There he points, the rifle against my head, Just above my brow, the sweat dripping down my face. Then back at my lips, to kiss goodbye. And everything swallows in darkness and his screaming and threats cease, Into muffles, and I fall deep into my own mental state. Frozen, petrified. As the gunman stood before me, his hands clutched onto the deadly weapon, having second thoughts, and slowly he lowers it, And soon, I'm at relief once again.

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