Cold metal pressed against sweat.
Tears wetting my damp clothes.
Pitter-patter of rain against the ground as children sleep.
I cry for help, but no-one answers.
Shoot. Why can't I shoot.
Pitter-patter. More rain.
Damp shirt. More tears.
Why can't I end it all?
Every single night I scream.
It's so much easier this way.
SHOOT. WHY CAN'T I SHOOT.
I hear children laughing, and mothers loving,
I hear men working through the night, ready to go back to their families.
SHOOT. WHY CAN'T I SHOOT.
I hear a crack, and it all goes black.