Suicide

Staring at my gun.
My best friend, my nine millimeter.
The world my audience and my life in a theater.
Pull the trigger for the world to see.
I don't care about them, I just want to be free.

Free from this madness.
My entire existence worthless.
To this day I remain hopeless.
No fixing any of this.
I'm too tired, too stressed.
By the Gods, never have I been blessed.

Slit my wrist, or aim my gun to my head.
Squeeze the trigger and finally be dead.
Not only dead inside but be complete.
Finally happy, finally free.

Never to wake up to bullshit ever again.
Though my life, my death will be considered sin.
My life began, and now it shall end.
Death will become my true friend.