by elleNoir
@ 2007-09-04 - 23:14:30
I'm running out of bullets, leaving everyone for dead.
Bullets - forming from thoughts, rambling in my head,
And becoming projectiles, from the words that I've said.
Collectively attacked, mine is a slow death.
I've been pricked, beaten, and bruised until all that's left,
is a massive headache, surrounded by a bloody mess.
Though my list is endless, I'm on my last breath.
My weapon's seen better days, and there's only one bullet left.
Solution to all problems, best idea yet,
Embrace my life, close my eyes...
I'll use, this bullet for myself.
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