Charles S. Johnson

THE PISTOL

I sit here holding this lump of metal
A collection, an assembly of parts
Should I use it to end the misery, hurt, guilt
Why can I not deal with reality

My reality, failure, betrayal, broken dreams
My reality, unhappiness, loss of everything
No self respect, no pride, no accomplishments
I cannot do anything right

I have tried to hide, to become another
I’m still here, still a failure
I’ve lied, to my wife, relatives, friends
I cannot lie to those like me, my brothers in arms

I learned what weapons can do
Learned how they can extinguish anything
Can I use it to right my wrongdoings
Do I really want to, YES I do!

My failures glare at me day and night
They circle me like hyenas
They follow me like vultures, waiting
They are always there, blaming me

Can I use this pistol to make things right
Who will suffer if I take the easy way out
What will it do to the others
Will it transfer my failures to them

If I knew failure would die with me
If I was sure of taking it with me
If no one had to worry about failure
I would pull the trigger

I hear their call, the bullets are talking
They say I don’t have to worry
There is nothing to fear on the other side
Just pull the trigger, just a little more pressure

Is this the way out, the right one?
I sit on my bed and wonder
I hear the bullets calling my name
What should I do, pull or lay down?

If I go who will it hurt
Should I do them first
Can I leave them in the pain
Will anyone really care

A few people, here and there
“He was crazy, always has been”
A failure, that’s what I am
Can I, do I have the strength, to try again

Inside me a voice says, “You’ll just fail again.”
Inside I hear – “End it, it won’t hurt long”
Inside, “They don’t matter.”
Inside, very softly, someone says, “Be strong”

Be strong, can I do that
Do I have enough in me to try again
Can I stand the pain, again
YES, I’m strong, I’ll try again

So I put the pistol back in the drawer…

… for now