Hullaballoo

Guns and Knives

Copyright, Hullaballoo

It’s fun to play with guns and knives,
Where I no longer have to hide.
I show myself, the mess I am,
Where I let loose all I can.
Where I can say all I want,
Without the taunts,
The names they call me,
Which yes I may be.
They hurt me inside,
And now I cannot hide,
I live in fright,
And in endless spite,
They’re all so scared,
And so they have to compare,
Me with the bad,
So I feel sad.
I try to hold my head up high,
But I still feel I need to die,
I want to cry,
But I can only sigh,
I can see the world,
And the man who sold,
My whole body goes cold,
As I’m strictly told,
I need to be brave; I need to be bold,
Or I’ll still be like this when I’m old.
So now I fold this piece of paper,
Feeling like a crisp thin wafer,
Easily broken,
No credit or token,
And I still haven’t woken,
From the dream,
Where I was part of the team.
And not be left behind,
For them to be nasty or unkind,
To be part of the reality,
To be considered inside sanity,
I just want to have a friend,
Where I can help and help to mend.

It’s fun to play with guns and knives,
And be there just to risk my life,
To put just myself in danger,
With a lethal unfamiliar stranger.
I couldn’t care less,
With the way I dress,
Or the way I look,
But I do with my life that you took.
You say my head is wrong,
And that my heart is badly torn,
You don’t know how wrong you are,
I just want to go so far.
Just so far away from them,
And always be able to defend,
Myself so that I don’t get beated,
So badly and so differently treated.

It’s fun to play with guns and knives,
But the gun that took my friend’s life,
Hangs high upon my wall,
Just to show how she did fall.
She took the bullets out of that gun,
Leaving a note for me and her mum,
It explained how her life had been,
Throughout, but she was just a teen,
With all the people being mean,
But her heart was set and she was so keen,
To leave this world that she had seen.
Disrupted, chaos, dark and gloom,
She took that gun and made it her doom.
No one ever saw it coming,
Because she kept on trying and kept on humming,
She left on a date,
The one that opposed her fate,
On her thirteenth birthday,
The twelfth of May,
All I have left is that gun,
And now I’m thinking how much fun,
It could be
If I were to accidentally have a catastrophe.
To take my life,
With gun or knife.
I do not care which,
I just want to leave the ditch,
That they dropped me in so long ago,
Wishing they hadn’t even thought of me though.
I got myself into this much trouble,
And my head is in such a muddle.
I want to be back, alone in my room
But also locked up with all the other loons.

It’s fun to play with guns and knives,
Where I was and am always forced to strive,
Someone once found in this position,
But I made sure it was only my decision.
With the gun to my head,
Enough had been said,
My shaking finger on the trigger,
The lump in my throat swelling bigger.
He saw the fears in my eyes,
To him this was no surprise,
I had removed my disguise,
Found time to bury the lies,
That had been wrongly placed on my shoulders
And the bullet hit me; I felt my body go colder.
I shot my chest,
And I wasn’t bothered about the mess,
I wanted to feel my best,
Remove myself; I’m the little arrogant pest.
As he held me,
I could hardly see.
Not even past my own nose,
But I saw the red rose,
He had bought for me,
I laid there in his lap,
About to start my eternal nap.
I felt his tears drop to my face,
I had let down the human race,
So I sweetly said,
As he held my head,
‘Please please don’t forget me…
Always remember the way I had to be…’

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