Thinkin’ bout all the days I’ve wasted, because I cannot leave my bed.
I’ve been dead inside. Must be losing my mind.
It’s hard to bite my tongue like I’m not keen on being numb.
It’s all I have. It’s all I want. The final page is almost done.
You never really seemed to notice me, until I wasn’t all there.
Now the barrel rests against my skull. Maybe now you’ll care.
But I highly doubt it anyway.
Fucked in the head. Full of regret.
Want to erase everything that I’ve done.
Clinical mess. My life is a wreck.
Take a breath. Pull the trigger.
Bullets in my skull. What?
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