The Odds? Poem by miesha devres

Void of emotion, full of feeling,
A tear slides down his cheek.
His mind breaks from what he's reading.
This is not for the meek.
His fingers hold on for dear life,
About to bring on sweet death.
He clicks off the light
As he prepares to take his final breath.
He sets down the paper,
careful and sacred.
Now its too late for
them to undo what their hate did.
He gripped the handle tightly,
aimed at the side of his head,
squeezed the trigger slightly
And braced himself, soon he'd be dead.
No more teasing, no more bruises,
No more feeling like dirt.
Now its his mind and his life he loses.
He convinces himself it won't hurt.
Just a little sting will take away his pain,
Just a little sting will stop this rain,
Just a little sting will ease this hurt.
Little did he know,
Just a little sting will make it all worse.
His mind slowed with thoughts of his friends,
Thoughts of his parents and siblings.
Surely they'd understand it had to come to an end,
Surely they could see he was crumbling.
These thoughts made him rethink.
Was it all worth my life?
Worth all this struggle?
Worth all this strife?
Back and forth, back and forth
the Angel and Devil fought.
The time he'd spent on earth
He felt it all to be naught.
He closed his eyes,
gritted his teeth,
felt the heat rise
as his blood began to speed.
Pulling back the trigger,
the gun fired off.
The surrounding was black,
the silence was soft.
No pain, no sting,
No feeling at all.
He opened his eyes
and stared down the hall.
A misfire miracle.
He had a second chance.
He fell to his knees and sobbed his tears.
His fingers clutched to his pants.
How could it be that this happened?
What could be the odds?
His faith had been renewed,
His life is now in the hands of God.