Staring down the barrel of a gun
A bottle of rum.
Shred from the loved
Torn from the hate.
But saved from reality
The soothing of pain
The warmth and wilfulness
To die in vain.
For the heart feels no pain this way
Nor feels regret
Nor tastes the blood, the tears
That fall from above to cleanse
To wash away as the bottle does
To sink to the lows and the highs of the deep.
The burning remains of a crash that will keep
To be engulfed by excuses and reasons and what
To happen all over again like a knife to the wrist.
Enough to fill with guilt
But not punish with 'death'
Until the nights draw closer
The race grows longer
Until he accepts all sorrows and feels no regrets
In the space and the time that is left he will be free
Be free to be him and no one else
Away from the gasps and judgement
The torture and pain he goes through every day
The world will stop in his wake
He will fly
He will be set free