"You loaded the gun with bullets, pulled back the safety pen
and placed the gun in my hand. You gave me more than enough reasons
to pull the trigger. Was this your true purpose?

Deep in your mind I hope you know I can't.. My logical reaction is to
remove the bullets and throw them away, breaking the gun in half.

The stabs in my back will be taken with me. Some day they will heal and be nothing
more than a bunch of scars.. Scars placed in between the ones already there.

At some point in life, you will see them.. You will see the results of your creation.
When that moment arrives, you will finally realise the damage you made.

That point will come, when I walk away.."