I was created to kill on the battlefield. Today I don’t like the way I feel. Sometimes I wish I had never been created. With all these killings I just hate it.
When I’m seen I know I instill fear. But I don’t like taking lives that others hold dear. What the heck is going on? If I had legs I would run. Innocents dying, shooters lying.
I want to implode. Hate when schools explode. Why was I created? Innocent people are dying, nations crying and I just hate myself. Please please please if you own me keep me hidden high on a shelf. Don’t want to be in little hands for I’m not a toy. I’m a weapon to deploy.
So as you can see my life isn’t fun. Oh, how I hate being a gun. I end lives when I’m fired. I can’t wait to be retired.
The word gun was suggested by a wonderful man named Christopher P.
Thank you for reading.
Sincerely Guady G
Hugs from Brooklyn
Anyone else have a word for me? Bring it.



I was lost adrift on a squall to a destination without much certainty. But now with love as my sail I can withstand anything. I am no longer afraid to navigate these waters. I will not be idle. I will take command of the helm and I will sail until I’m home.