This story could be triggering.
Valentines Day…
She sat in the den thinking of everything that could have been…
Should have been; and what it was in real life… Reality did not agree with the voices, and they agreed on nothing…
That day she listened to her Grandfather Clock strike 12 twice…
Not once had she moved a muscle; she sat on the cold leather, contemplating everything thrice…
Today would end forever… Being alive, was worse than breathing never…
She stood up with a mechanical stroke… She new what was happening, no way that she would choke…
With a calm and grace, she made her way to the oak gun case…
She stretched above for the golden key… Soon she knew that she would be free…
On a day full of supposed love, she would be sent flying like dove…
The iron and wood seemed lighter than she could last recall, today everyone would fall…
She loved her family dearly but they loved her back, only merely…
She pictured her husband would be in his same recliner, at HER house… They would not suspect a thing, she had been quiet as a mouse…
Being a Grandmother had been the greatest blessing to her life, but it wasn’t enough to not escape the strife…
The voices seemed to quiet more, as she made her final exit out of her front door…
She calmly loaded her gun before pulling out the driveway… She sang Michael Bolten the whole way…
In fifteen minutes flat, she knew that her red Buick belonged where it had now sat…
She walked to the front door with her .20 gage in hand, taking a moment to position where she would stand…
She listened carefully as the doorbell rang… As the door opened… “I loved you”… BANG….
Happy Valentines Weekend Gram.
🖤 🖤 I love you…🖤 🖤
Like this story, Bipolar Depression is real. If you are on medication, please do not stop taking it with out the assistance of a professional. Be well.
🖤
Rhymes, Writings, and Confessions to Small Crimes 
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