The Weapon

Stop listening to my voice; don’t just hear my words take in what I am saying.

I want to be wrapped in life’s warm made comfort, left to rest.

Pain dripping from my fingertips holding the weight of life and death

The difference of tomorrow in my hands

A tight knot with a loop to hold me together

A drink to quench my very last thirst

The taste of something small slipping down my throat

Healing the inner most lining my of ripped soul

Biting my lip as it jumps uncontrollably wordlessly

Holding onto my sins

Show the world what is out there, the bodies of shame

What is there to show; to give hope?

I wear this disgrace bravely

But I speak slowly, if at all

And I head to a place where I don’t have to be

I certain demise to take me from this world

I’ve traveled toward the tops of these clouds for sometime

And for almost a minute I was there.

It wasn’t suicide I was murdered.

People took advantage of my hurt

They used me, but I didn’t kill myself, they did.

I was just the weapon

They failed however because I failed

But in actuality I was given the greatest success of my life

I lived because there are miracles and a part of me still believed in them

And that part of me still found hope

I’m a weapon still, my words are my weapon

They protect me and teach you

We all have a weapon within us

Those weapons save us, and make us who we are.

I will not be overpowered.

I am my own weapon

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