Where have my guns gone?

A story about a girl.

Where have my guns gone?

It would be nice to fire one off

Aim high, feel low

Craft a spear out of twigs and spire

Huddling around the funeral fire

I want to whisper, I want to whisper

I want to whisper angrily

I want to whisper thoughtfully, angrily

I don't hoist anger through me, I create it exponentially

Where has the love gone, did it ever exist?

Can I grow without this?

Imagine me in great despair

You've unwillingly taken me there