Whats the point?
Why do we…no…why have i held on for this long?
You have to admit,you’ve thought about it to.
…ending your life,ending all of the hell.
So for one more time i pick up the gun that has always been by my side.
It raised me,protected me,ruled me.
I look into the barrel.completly filled,all the bullets there,and yet…i seem to stall.Maybe im afraid.Not afraid to pull the trigiar but knowing were ill be going after this…ive done to much.It’ll never get any better
But i dont care i hold the gun under my neck,release the safety trigar and start to push but….i stop……..