SPED With a Gun

Where to start with that one, I guess, told to believe in myself from a young age. What was the point of all the lies they told to me?

My mouth is my gun and my words are my bullets...


SPED With a Gun

The kid with the brass knuckles, oh the potential he had. Ha-ha... No I am not the prodigy you have all been waiting and hoping I’d be. I never believed in the words that you told me. I didn’t care to dream about what I could be. I was born a SPED and I will die a SPED. But not just any SPED. I’ll go out as the SPED with a word.

I’ve taken enough and now I’m opening the jaws that I held shut for so long. Down on your knees trembling in agony, all I have to do is pull the trigger. Power to be held in my hand but stemming from my mouth it all comes pouring out.

You can feel the flesh peeling from the bone as the bullet enters the skin. Something more something rough stop your guiltless lust. The blood comes rushing from your wounds like the confession of a cereal killer. Written in blood and tears and so very clear what I held in my mind was something to fear.

Remembrance of this life... Or should I say of this dream of what we could be. Potential laid forth and now covered by my own feet. I’ve come so far but we’ve yet to reach an end. Many more days ahead and many more times of being called the SPED but not just any SPED no, not at all. I’ll be the one known as the... SPED with a gun.