The first time my life tried to end was a failure. The world decide my time was not yep up.

So they shipped me off to the first prison named hospital they could find expecting a full recovery. This was too good to be true.

A mere seven days later I was declared cured and released into the world that made me want an end. And within the next seven it pushed me back where I belonged.

It is then when I realized I hadn't been given another chance at life; merely the chance to have a better death.