I open up the chamber count the bullets
One
Two
Three
Lifting up the revolver to the left side of my head
I never thought I’d go this way
But at least I’ll be dead.
My friends will miss me for a while I guess
But honestly
I don’t really give a shit
Friends didn’t mean much
When every day I cut my wrists
Hoping maybe I’d get lucky and hit a vein.
Unfortunately I always missed.
Suicide
Is calling me
And who am I to resist?
Since I was thirteen I pictured myself on the edge
Of some important building
Stretching out my arms as far as I could
Closing my eyes and stepping forward
I wouldn’t scream
Or show signs of regret I’d just
Fall forward and that would be it
Obsessed with the thought of ending my life
I’ve planned it well making sure I don’t survive
If this bullet fails its job
Then I’ll pull the trigger again
And aim it at my heart
Until all I see is red.
