The Gun

I sit here
Thinking about my death
The gun pushed at my head
My hands are sweaty
Fingers memorizing the feel of the trigger.

The breeze of the night make me shiver
The bench holds my fears,
They have my secrets now
The calm waves of the lake sounding out all my terror.

One pull, and I'll be gone
Just one noise and I'm dead
I can feel the suicide note, I wrote in my jeans
So many things left unsaid,
Too many dreams unfinished.

I cock my gun, before my note saves me
My breathing gets heavier, I'm scared
But it feels so good,
My heart is racing, one last breath of fresh air.

I suck in the smell of the night and fear,
What a lovely smell it was
As I start to let out my breath
I slowly whispered "Help."
And I pulled... the trigger.