The gun shook in his hand,
Finger brushing the trigger ever so lightly.
The barrel felt cool against his temple.
It was strange, considering that soon,
A white-hot piece of metal
Would bore into his skull,
And explore the expanse of his brain.
He wondered, what would the bullet see,
Before it's explosive exit
Through his other temple?
Would see the faces of everyone he loved,
Who didn't love him back?
Would it see the shame, dissapointment
In his father's eyes?
Would it see the pain of losing a friend,
Due to no one's fault besides his own?
Would it feel the frozen blackness
Of complete Isolation?
Would it finally be the one
To understand the wretched feeling
Of loathing his own existence?
These thoughts ran through his mind,
Pioneering a path for the bullet.
The gun weighed a thousand pounds.
With his last ounce of strength,
He pulled the triger, and freed himself.