A Silute holds a makeshift gun to my head. 
There is a moment of stillness as the gun sways 
Behind my head ­ telling me to follow this dogma. “I want to be a heretic against my life”.
So I beg the silute to pull the trigger,
To squeeze it slowly without remorse, emotion.
The silute talks about my loved ones, and ‘He’ 
Threatens me with their lives, I am conflicted with 
The thought of being the cause of all the slaughter.
So instead he pushes me into a void of Happy depression... I am frozen in the void. 
Reflecting on life, all the pain and misery.
I see the light of happiness but I refuse.
I would rather be pulled into the darkness. 
Bang.