Mosters That Wake Me

Apr 27, 2010, 10:20 AM |

I cant remember the first time a gun was pulled on me, funny how some things slips the memory,

I could probably tell you the second time, but even that one is foggy in my mind,

So I not talking about either, or, but one of the many times that stick out more.

Because this was the first time, that the barrel wasn't meant for me.

You see, I stepped in front of the muzzel praying to God.... she would pull the trigger, I figured, with my death peace could be bought.

I seen madness in its highest forms, yet, to this day, I have not seen nothing that could match her ere.

Her eyes were locked on her target, and she was ready to kill regardless the consequence.

Fear, moving mothoticly, because of the fear. Close quarters is all I could think, ever step I made, I had to be sure I could take to the bank.

Because she wanted to kill, I didn't hate her because her cause was real,

but nor could I stand by,

I placed myself between her and her objective, and yes my actions were reckless,

but don't judge because you weren't in my shoes, and if your were you would have probably done the same thing too.

I begged, I pleaded, please put the gun down, but she was lost in madness so she couldn't hear a sound.

I still stepped even closer...

"Get out of the way, he will die tonight!"

I knew she meant it, but still my feet moved me closer.

I knew all my speed was in my right, so as I raised my voice I raised my left, and held my breath.

It worked, for on split second, she watched the left, and I stepped in, my right with all the speed of a mongoose pouncing on the cobra.

Now the gun is pointed at the heavens, yet we are now in struggle so who knows how it will end.

He has joined us in the strugle for the gun, all three bodies are flung to the ground....

as all three of us hear the deafening sound.....

whats the next step, there is no time, time is gone, its only this chaotic moment,

Now Im the one with the gun.

I unload it, then check to see if she has been shot, because she is crying rolled up in a ball.

But thank God the closet baseboard caught it!

She is still crying because he is still alive, and now I cry too, cause so much of me wanted to stand aside..... but I could not!

This ugly truth is why my memory wont let go of the image of that barrel.

Numerous nights I have found myself in that same situation, yet in my nightmares I do things different.

Then when I wake, guilt hits me, because my feelings still haven't changed.

Yet, how could I live with myself if I had not stepped in front of the gun?

The life I have lived put me in harms way many of a times, in that there is no lie.

And countless times I have had barrels and bullets pointed at me, and countless times, surprise but not fear accompanied this scene,

But the one time I willing stepped in front barrel still to this day haunts me!