How are mortar fire and flag-draped caskets more of a balm
Than the pharmacy of drugs they tried to put me on?
Must be the company.

I felt more at home in a war zone
than that place my family's from.
More inner-peace an hour after a bullet whistled passed
than years after in callous curiosity I was asked
"Have you killed anyone?"
In church.  
By an adult that knew me as a child.
Go to Hell.
And f**k yourself.

Twenty-two suicides a day
is just the price to pay
for cheap goods and ****** internet.