Russian Roulette Triggers Holding Memories of The Lost
Location
The room smells of stale cigarettes and alcohol
There's a chill in the air
that settles into my bones
The pastor asks
if anyone wants to say anything
and is met with defeated silence
No one here knows how to bring any closure
to a life that ended by your own hand
There's nothing anyone can say
to make light of the situation
Your brother still wakes up every night
crying out from nightmares
he'll never be able to escape from
Your mother and father
don't even sleep in the same room anymore
Your family
has begun to speak the language of the lost
and I can't help them
No one can
We've all lost ourselves
in ghosts we thought we'd abandoned years ago
No one saw the blast of a gun coming
The night you loaded your life
into a pistol
and played Russian roulette with your depression
letting the trigger lull you into the comfort of leaving,
everyone around you
had become too busy
to notice the demons pulling on your sleeves
Now we're left pointing fingers at ourselves
insisting we could have been a better father,
mother,
brother,
sister,
or friend
But the truth is
you had the gun loaded for years
and your plan to leave
was tucked away in your back pocket the whole time
You'd just finally found the courage
to pull the trigger