Sinners Grace

In array, dignify my soul.
Scented candles, fumigating my lungs.
Gold meadows, synthesising in the dark.
Flower bloom, mesmerising my thoughts.
I do not hold significance, nine of the ten.
Find me on dry land, paddling to the shore.
My mind has taken no relevance, the wages of death.
As I sit here, at the back of this car's seat in aridity;
I take a puff of my cigarette, waiting for the alarm to go off.
Drowning in the ocean waves of my mind,
I try to relax my nerves,
Listening to blurry tunes of the ocean swaying.
Slow deep breaths,
Counting my pace.
Numbering each breath I've had to breathe;
Wondering if it could be my last.
Stay still, and clear your mind;
But the constant dripping, of my leaking thoughts,
Manifesting ripples of chain reactions on my mind.
Few minutes to go,
My mind's still revolving,
My palm's sweating.
We sit, uttermostly calm.
Each, as nervous in a way, as the next.
My eyelid's shut tight,
As my head lay effortlessly on the headrest,
With my back pressed against the seat.
Adrenaline slowly coursing through my veins,
With each passing breath.
The bell rings;
It's time.
I reach underneath the front seat,
Taking out my rifle.
Cocked and loaded,
I slide down my face mask.
I might die today,
Or I might live to see tomorrow.
To what beholds me,
I leave that in the hands of my fate.
It doesn't matter now,
I'm one step away from entering the bank.
Or one step away from entering my grave.

Everybody get down on your knees

A little too late now,
To be asking questions.