I was never one to stay in one place for more than one day.
But I've been sitting on this bench for quite a while.
Rotting out as the seasons change for almost a year. Observing my life, analyzing the world with my pupils not my mind.
Passion,
Compassion,
Inspiration,
Love,
Hate,
Regret,
& memories.
Withered & bloomed inside of me like a garden of suicidal flowers.
I take one last look at this life.
I put the gun in my mouth.
I can taste the hollow steel
& before I could smell the gun powder,
I pulled the trigger on the past.
I awoke in the present
but the future still seems to have it's hands wrapped around my throat.
They say that time waits for no one
but time has been waiting at my front door long enough.