All the ingredients for potential: guns grief and whiskey
The old Winchester lays in waiting on the shelf
I’m told its too dangerous to fire
And wonder at that irony
The potential in my arms
They way they can move
Produce and destroy
The baby they could hold
Maybe its just too dangerous to fire
What do you do with a gun that won’t fire?
What do I do with my empty hands?
Layers, So Many
2 days ago