Cleaning the gun knowing you will use it anyway
Putting it back together like the life you wish you could say
Taking the cold lead and pressing it into the mag
Looking at your smoke taking your last stress free drag

Shaking and Screaming as you fight yourself for control
Anger and depression take hold
Feeling the cold barrel press it's steel lips to your skull
Finger shaking on trigger waiting to take your life whole

But you drop the gun and it clatters to the floor
and at that moment you are grateful you didn't close that door.