GUNS Don't Kill People. PEOPLE...KILL PEOPLE

   I have protected police officers and soldiers. I have saved the lives of those that would have become victims of violent and brutal crimes. I have also ended as many wars as I have started. I have been used under the disguise of protection and also as a tool of intimidation. But the truth is that I was created with one purpose...to wound and to kill. I am the true definition of what a weapon of mass destruction is. I have watched grown men beg for their lives. I have seen women uncontrollably shed tears. I have destroyed families and stolen the lives of innocent people. Since my birth in the 12th century I have been at the center of many a gruesome scene. After being exposed to so much bloodshed one would think I would be use to this carnage. And I actually thought that I was...but time has a way of making you realize things aren't as good as they should or could be. Here I stand nine centuries later in the year 2045 witnessing something that finally makes me question the purpose of my creation.

   I am laying on a cold floor. My trigger is sore from the last round of shots that I just fired. As I survey my surroundings I first hear the eerie silence that always immediately follows after I have filled my appetite for destruction. After the sounds of nothingness penetrate my barrel I look around. I see the scene that I have become so accustomed to seeing...death. But on this day the images of death cannot be ignored. As far as I can see are bodies of men, women and children. Their clothing is littered with holes and permanently stained with blood. My current owner is slumped against the stairs of a pulpit. As I look up I see the image of a man wearing a crown of thrones on his head stretched across a large cross. I have seen this image many times before. I have seen it hanging on necklaces, seen it in the inside of cars and have also seen them tattooed on the bodies of both my shooters and their victims. As I look at the image towering over me I see the face of the man who represents eternal life staring out at all the death laid out before him.

   He appears as if he is crying. I can't blame him if he is. Perhaps he is sad because he has seen this scene too many times before too. As we stare at each other I begin to question why I don't do more to control my actions. I start to think that I have grown tired of this life. Sick of hearing the terrified screams and sorrowful cries. Weary of meeting people on their last days of life. I start to believe that I am finally disgusted with being the source of so much misery and pain. I yearn for a better purpose. I no longer want to be the bringer of death. As a wallow in my own self hate I remember I am just doing what my my creator designed me to do. I remember I am not the cause of all this madness. I am only a tool. How I am used is not my choice or request. I know that even though my handles are constantly stained with the blood of many I am not at fault. I am not the problem. I am a gun and I know the truth. Guns don't kill people. People...kill people.

*This chapter was inspired by the song "I Gave You Power" featured on the 1996 masterpiece album entitled "It Was Written" by Nas

Be BETTER TODAY, than you were yesterday
TWIL