Hoping for death..

In this hopeless moment, looking for atonement, I take my gun and cock it, hollow point bullet resting in its chamber, cold steele pressed against my palm.. you’d think I was playing, maybe even just saying.. "I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna pull the trigger and blow my head off!", cause I'm ticked off, and I'll be found dead any minute now in my 2nd story loft with my head shot off, and no one will care why I did it..

Can’t you see it’s my pain driving me to this madness, and the world rejoices of my wounding sadness.. Madness prevails!  

I’m hated in this life, life loathes my existence, and death lifts it's glass to the air and toasts, and smiles, and loudly boasts, of my demise and my lifes' trials.

I tried hanging myself, taking pills from my bathroom shelf, the pain digs deep in me, and there’s no reason to drag this on. You see? I’m praying tonight, for the cold grip of death. I have no more life left, no more time left.  

I’m burdened each day, and no where to run. I go into my closet to pull out my gun, cock the fucker like I did last time (it was fun), this time with a bottle of tequila and rum.

Something’s not right, I usually don’t cuss, but this world’s got me all fucked up, but still I blush.

Don’t try to make anything of it, just come pull the trigger for me, we'll call it even. Wipe your fingerprints clean, and drop the gun on the carpet.

Shot to the head, oh here we go again.. Body falls, hit's the ground, I've fallen down, never to get up.

Dead, lifeless, last breath leaves my lips, death makes me sick and the world still turns, the sun still sets, and the wind blows softly to kiss my blood red lips.

Death as I hoped it would come, came quick.

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