Echoes of Steel

Photo by Tsvetoslav Hristov on Unsplash

Heavy it rests within my hand,
an object of formidable stand,
forged of iron, wood, and chrome;
manual function, monotone.

The elongated form, firm in my grasp,
The consequences not to be taken in jest.
The weight scarcely do I feel.
Beware, for the aftermath is real!

I feel its chill against my brow,
can hear my teeth chattering now.
Yet within, only sadness blooms.
I pull the trigger! The weapon booms.