Sunday Evening, 4:23AM

The rhythm of my breathing

is a litany of regret:

Lend me a gun with which

to shoot myself.

Have you ever wondered

what it is like to kill a man?

We are perfect.

I have always wondered

what it is like to die.

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Steven Gowin, Feb 21, 2013

Balance.

I would erase the word like from your poem to make it stronger.

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