The sound of the question
"Are you dead yet?"
Cuts me like a thousand stabbing knives.
I wonder to myself
If I should end it now.
I feel the sharp blade pressed up against my skin
Forcing to bring the red flowing river back again.
Now it is here
And I look around and no one who cares is there
I hear the sound of laughter.
I see their smiling face.
They are happy to know I may be leaving this place
But the cut on my arm is not enough
So I turn to my last thought to get the bullets and grab the gun.
I reached for the trigger
But as I did I heard a shout
The smallest voice that stood above the crowd.
He asked me to stop but it was too late.
For when he got to me there was blood all over the place.

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