I find myself thinking of his Pen.
the Pen clenched in his shaking hand,
anxiously scribbling "it's never worth it."
only feet away
watching
as he ended his life.
an accomplice to my friend's suicide,
I hate this Pen.
I find myself thinking of his Gun.
the Gun he held in his trembling hands,
complying with his demand
to fire.
an accomplice to my friend's suicide,
I hate this Gun.
I find myself thinking of him.
the friend whose last minutes of life
were spent in a state of
sadness and desperation.
the Pen and Gun blinding his senses,
encouraging an irreparable mistake.
I miss this friend.
any criticism please?
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