See that red,
drop down dead
with a bullet in my head.
Brains scattered all about,
"Why?"
at the top of your lungs you shout,
to the heavens,
the clouds above,
of which I'm no where near.
Suicide's a sin - didn't you hear?

I welcome you to follow -
come on!
For once commit,
our break up was why I went through with it!
Not once did I believe,
that you would be one to grieve.
I thought that what you said was true;
I thought I wasn't good enough for you.
Why'd you say something so bad?
What was wrong with what we had?

What you've got now is a guilt trip, honey.
I apologise for it
and I'm sorry that because of me your wrists are slit.

I'm sorry I had issues.
I'm sorry I was the issue to you.
But most of all I'm sorry that you were so vain,
the reason I lodged a bullet in my brain.
I know I was unstable
and that you aren't really to blame.
My psychiatrist - oh what's her name?
I should have done as she said,
if I had of taken my meds
then, from both of us would escape no reds.

Can you hear them at the door?
It's about (almost out of) time.
Honey, I rang them before I died.
You have no idea how hard I cried.
As much as I want you to join me here,
you dead is my true fear.

That's why I did it all,
why I made the call.
I couldn't be without you, babe.
But I couldn't stand the world being without you either.

All I ask is that you remember me,
and not the depressive side of my identity.
Remember the happy times,
times when the euphoria lasted.
Please, don't remember the end;
the night my brains, I blasted.

I'm sorry that I'm now just a memory.

© Danni Goldring, 2007