I’m only fifteen years old,
And my life’s already done.
Uncle, I yield, I quit, I fold.
I reach out for the gun.

But then I see your face,
And the tears that would be there.
Putting you in that place,
Is my ultimate fear.

I could not bear the scorns,
Of that much pain and guilt.
Though my conscience still warns,
Of these feelings that I’ve built.