Contemplation

A gun in his hand;
His last stand.
The life is gone;
He feels withdrawn.

Fear and hate mingle together,
The startling revelation;
Feeling lighter than a feather,
Life itself an abomination.

A free soul flying through the sky;
Feeling so fucking high.
Minds are blown to epic proportions;
Everything around him in distortion.

Friends just another fucking lie,
All his thoughts have been divided;
Left by yourself to die,
An entity that's not sighted.

Jumbled ideas float in his head;
Why isn't he already dead?
When all he wants to do is shout,
Who's left to hear him out?