I fell asleep with a gun in my hand and
a song on my mind.
The gun isn’t for me. The gun isn’t for you. But there is a bullet in the center of each of our brains, waiting to go off when I decide to pull the trigger.
The song isn’t for me. The song isn’t for you. But there are words that are etched on our lungs, and with each breath, I’ll exchange them with either a curse or a blessing.
The decision is not mine.
The decision is not yours.
I woke up with a bullet in my hand and your name on my mind.
--Cindy K., 19
