Consider life a bullet. We await in line for our execution, our face against the wall, our eyes pionted
towards the blood stains on the wall. In this world of the unborn we wait to fall to rise again in the world of the living. Your name is called, The question is asked "Where are you going to take it?" The trigger is pulled and all that remains is the impact. You can dodge it, but that's no good, you just dissapoint the shooter and forced execution comes into action, you're denied your rights and have to blow yourself away. All your life you'll try to get back to that world for a fresh start cause you skrewed up the last time. Some people come with bullet-proof vests, they'll live their lives safely, never taking risks always in the comfort of their ignorance, never knowing pain and sorrow or pleasure and joy. A few take it to the head, feeling that they are superior in some way; the bullet affects their emotions and they live without any. They'll burn their life away and that will be left of them will be shadows and dust. others will take it in the hand or leg, they're life will be the one of a cripple, always made fun of, always spit at, always walked on. Most peple take it in the chest, and they're life be "normal", in the middle-class of the society. Some don't even have a choise, the trigger-happy shooters make the decision for them and shoot at will. But who are theese gunmen pulling the riggers? Why none other tahn our loving parents, they're not to blaim, they only do what theyr parents did to them and theyr parents before them in this vicious cycle of life and death leaving us they're most prised possesions the guns passed on from generation to generation on to us.
Theese thoughts pass through my head as i wait my turn.
My number is up... The question is asked: "Where will you take it son? My answer upsets the gunman. I turn my back to the wall, "Let it ripp! I will not be putt in any class, i will live my life any way it's going to be! I am not afraid of the bullet!