"the gun may be the perfect weapon"

he said standing between a rock and a hard place.

"but a gun is nothing without a bullet"

i replied.

i am my own bullet.

i live my life perfectly.

a parabolic arch of meaning

purpose

and then there was the time you stepped on a landmine

and i never forgave you

and you could feel the entire rise and fall of the Third Reich at your feet.

it's a wasted life.

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