ways (trigger warning)

Constantly plotting my own suicide.

Maybe It would be better if I just died.

I could shoot myself right under the chin,

Or I could take a shotgun right to my grin.

I could cut a big chunk of my wrist off,

I could even Bite it and twist off.

I could bang my head against a wall,

Or splatter from a couple thousand foot fall.

I could go in public with a 45,

Or maybe get a little entrails on my knife.

This would put my ass in prison all my life,

I'd just kill myself with a cell-made knife.

I could enhale and swallow my entire tongue,

By the time I'm dead I won't look young.

I could jump onto my head and make it

explode,

Or hold in my breath until I implode.

I could shut the hell up and just keep quiet,

So that in my peers,

I don't start a riot.

I fear that I will always think like this,

I'm the one who feeds into the abyss.

Don't think I'd drown myself, not a fun death.

Could die from poison before my last breath.

Many ways I could keep going on.

It'll keep on circulating like the chorus in a

song.

I'll be dead not before long,

but for now I suppose I'll keep moving on.