With a gun to her head,
She whispers “Say when,”
With her eyes closed, facing the ground
She doesn’t hear one protest of sound.
What is this life suppose to mean?
If no one even cared about this helpless human being?
Still she waits out the moment
Letting the final thoughts wash through her head
A silent tear tumbles down her cheek
Her finger wraps around the trigger
And then she lets it release
She takes a breath and drops the gun
Maybe she should let god have his fun.
Leave him to pick and murder the chosen ones.