Emotionally Murdered

The victims head pressed against a gun
This is the killer’s idea of fun.
Blindfolded and scared the victim shouts out,
Not a soul to be seen, there's no one about.

In an instant he's dead as he pulled back the trigger
He needs another kick but something much bigger.
He gives himself pain in which he enjoys
The more he is hurting the less there is noise

He tortured himself for weeks on end,
But did he know what was round the bend.
Slowly and painfully he cuts his wrists,
Threw his eyes is like sitting in mist.

He slid down the wall and hit the floor,
With the little energy he had left he cut some more.
His heart grew weak with every second that went by
He took a deep breathe and knew he was going to die.