Telling me I have no other choices.
That this is the only choice I have.
That this choice must be done immediately.
You tell me I can die if I don’t choose the “right” choice.
You are only looking out for me.
As if what I have inside does not matter.
But I have an expiration date.
I will die, but there’s something good still.
There’s something good to see.
When I picture it your way.
Everything goes black.
There is nothing.
Only death.