She looked back upon her life,
  Through the hollow case of a silver bullet,  
Fired through a room that never grew.

If she’d followed her heart,
Would the violence of her pistol calmly smoke?
Or is it eternally cocked back,
    Forever ready to fire.

She spoke loudly of her mountains peak,
   Yet failed to admire it’s view,
      its paths surely made her bleed,  
   But did its landslides build her a shelter for hope ? **