Run, run,
r  u  n.
Fast enough to
fill you up with doubt.
How would you prefer it done?
I'm not a fan of guns,
they scare me.
Sharp and rigid edges?
But they aren't really
a friend of mine.
I could down a handful
of pills.
You already know how
I'm good at swallowing
things.
Look at that,
turning death into a
****** innuendo.
Maybe to help you
if you still cared,
you know,
past that plastic exterior.
Maybe to help me,
life is truly down since
the one you want
doesn't even
know
you exist.
Or maybe just doesn't
care.
Or maybe,
just maybe,
it's a joke.
All of this is a joke.
You, me, the world.
Life.