The pills held so tight
in the palm of my hands
dissolve under the deluge
of tears rolling down my cheeks...
The edge of the blade
glints in the fading sunlight
as the smell of gun oil
reeks through the room
clogging my senses
and fogging my brain
The rhythmic squeaking
of the swinging rope
lulls me into a daze
as the ceiling fan lazily turns
Should I give in to these urges?
Or let life guide me slowly
Until the end is all that is left?
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