Yeah, he used to shoot it in the air for kicks, promised he had perfect aim, swore that he couldn't miss. Wore it underneath his belt because by law that was his right, besides you never know what types of danger's hiding in the night.      He said he'd never use it in a fight, he'd take a punch instead and it made him feel at home, he used to hunt with grandpa as a kid.       As time went on he started to think more and more about what he would do if he was home and someone kicked down his door. Paranoia kept increasing, he kept imagining the tragedy as if it was inevitable. Trying to prepare himself for how he'd feel if he ever had to steal a life to save a loved ones or his own.       That solace piece of metal was the boss in the relationship, he bought it to keep him safe but it just made him sick. And it wasn't until the day that he got rid of it that he felt like he was safe, no longer a slave to that piece of shit.       You can own it but mostly it'll own you yeah.