I place shakespear's gun against my temple, and pull that poetic trigger, the pin hits the bullet of lit' i fall back,my face hits the mirror, the colour of words, splattered against a blank canvass, as my brain is exposed to the world, gunpowder laced with emotion, flashbacks of my rebirth, eyes still...No blinking, light fading from my eyes, what will my babies think, when they are only loved after my demise, van gough stood over me, with sunflowers to ease my pain, as my head throbs, look through the exit wound, and get your ticket to a whole new plane, blood trickles down my neck, and makes its way down my arm, the blood takes shape in the form of a pen, only then do i feel calm...