The Culprits

I have a gun in my hand. 
It is aimed at my head. 
My finger is on the trigger. 
I pull the trigger.                          

                        The bullet is freed.                         
                        A demon.  

It penetrates my skull. 
It explodes. 
My brain is pierced. 
My body goes through shocks.  
My brain is splattered                            
                                all over the wall. 
Blood drenches everything. 

Are you happy now?        
Are you relieved? 
                     You bastards. 
                     You murderers. 
It is you who kill me. 
Yes, you. 
It is always you,              
          always you that kill me.   

You shove me into a corner. 
You thrust a gun in my hand. 
Then you watch me,                           
                           as I helplessly pull                                           
                                                         the trigger,                           
                           as I have been trained to do                                            
                                                      all my life.                                           
                                                     All my life. 

You watch.        
You watch.                    

                 And then you feign