Mentally drained,
emotionally contained.
Sickness riddles my mind,
Thought the mental grind.
Voices condescending in tone, the feeling of darkness when alone.
No one I can call a friend,
no voice of love to send.
Trapped like an animal in a cage, no avenue to expel this depressive rage.
A gun in my drawer beckons, "Use me some more".
I reach for the piece, it's metal glares, the walls close in with accusing stares.
An avenue for hate, a violent episode my fate?
No this will not be, I will not kill again, a stance of defiance I send.
I turn the gun on myself, this will end this day, I can no longer stand left alone as a stray.
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