Too late.

I pull the trigger,
hope to die.
Scared and lonely,
I start to cry.
I put the gun,
up to my head.
The next time you see me, I'll be dead.
The pain is just too intense,
The words just aren't making any sense.
You tried to help,
Said you would cry.
But I'm set on it,
I wana die.
I'm tired of the hurting.
I'm tired of the empty feeling.
I'm tired of that involentary searching.
I needed someone to love and care.
I need that someone to listen and be there.
One last image of you passes through my head.
Too late.
Too bad.
I'm already dead.