The light was too bright, So she hid from the sun. In her dark place, She held the gun. Closed her eyes, And held her breath. Gripping the gun, Waiting for death. Placed her finger, In perfect position. The gun, well loaded, With ammunition. Raising the gun, Up to her head She ran from life; Choosing death instead. Pulled the trigger, And fired the shot. Dropping the gun, The barrel still hot And in that split second, Before she died, My angel cried.