Murder By Suicide

A knife, a gun, a rope I suppose, all these will suffice
Deciding which part, I should first sacrifice
Counting on their actions, I’ll make the first move
There’s nothing left there, nothing left to prove

A knife to cut the rotten out, to slice what causes pain
If I do this right, I won’t need to explain
Dice away the horrors, the disgusting face I see
I carve away the disgrace, only in the worst of degree

The gun with its trigger, I hold all the might
Aiming for the feet, I pull the destruction tight
I open fire on the sickness of it all, the mutilated feet
Both of them disfigured, I smile in defeat

A rope for the last, I can tie that noose
I’ll be sure there’s no room for escape, hope it’s not loose
Tie it to the ceiling, it seems pretty tight
Put over the head, in the perfect spot, it’s just right

Found hanging from the ceiling, body hoisted by a noose
No letter, no word, no left excuse
Face cut to pieces, two shots in the feet they eyed
I killed what was there; it was my murder by suicide

*please rate and comment*
Sorry I know it's a little disturbing. Thought I'd try something new