The thoughts I jot are for my own being,
The ones I show are for you to know
You are not alone.
My brain feels like it's being pulled, in two.
The pain is dull but growing, emotionless.
My hair's a mess as always shown.
I'm not together, it's for the better,
Forward the letters, leave the keys.
I wish I was holding worth for someone to see.
The looking glass shows my real imagery.

If this is a standoff in my own,
Each side isn't bluffing
As the tumbleweeds go drifting by
We both have guns to be blown.
We say ten steps but only take five
Lying to ourselves to make the other die.
Then the dust settles to show nothing
Just a Russian roulette suicide
But the barrel was empty
Too much of a coward to really try.

Haven't you taken enough?
It will never be enough