PoeticBiscuit

Out of it

Sitting down right here on this crooked wooden floor that’s squeaking from my weight,

A gun pressed against my head the cold metal sending shivers down my spine as I wait,

The anticipation building up, I swear I could feel the suspense, and honestly I’m so afraid,

Muscles tensing  up, my eyes close, there’s a burning coursing through my veins,

Not sure if it’s from the situation or the assortment of pills I took to get rid of my pain,

Waiting, I can feel my heart accelerate like a car at some race,

Gun clicks like a clock counting down my time as I brace,

Bracing for impact, waiting for the bullet to enter into my brain,

Taking too long, why is he taking so long? I just don’t understand.

I fight back my fear to open up my eyes what I see I just cant begin to comprehend,

Because I’m alone in this room and that gun against my head is in my hands.