“They Gave me a Gun. But I took the world.”

They spat in my face, I drowned in the shame. They punched my gut, the blow felt like a bullet. So don’t pretend like it’s okay, when you made it the opposite. Don’t nod your head and sympathize, if you used to walk by my broken body without glancing down. The wound may heal, but the scar will stick around. My scars are all over. Some you can’t even see. Man might be created equal, but we sure aren’t treated that way. I was shoved to the outside where I could no longer look in. You look at me like you don’t understand, but there’s a small piece of you that does. The piece that you don’t like and try not to listen to. But some of us don’t get to choose what we listen to, when there’s only one option left. So when they gave me a gun, I took the world.