IT IS IN THE BLOOD

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

  

Coldness comes off from the metal resting on my temples.

Enough to extinguish the fire inside.

Sweaty palms grasping around revolver.

The click of a trigger is enough.

 

Father tought me how to use a gun.

He gifted me his anger with a revolver beside.

He said to me “Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood”

The great family heirloom,  trueborn malignant.

 

First breath drawn, then the second, with barely steady hands.

Only flashback I see your brain scattered on rocky paths.

You were alone, afraid and shaking, as I am.

Here this crippling lunacy ends.