|
|
I sit at my desk looking in the mirror trying to figure out how my life started to get so bad.
Thinking and looking at what I should use to kill myself with.
Six sleeping pills will let me die in my sleep,
The dagger to slit my throat or wrists, or the gun,
The infamous gun, The one my sister killed herself with.
Thinking which would be faster, which would be faster, which would be less painful,
But of course the six sleeping pills. How easy that would be,
but why take the easy way out,
when I can take the bloody way out.
THE GUN.
Back to Gothic Rhapsody
