Memoirs of my Suicide

The last few days gone by in a listless fashion,
Where life was lived without any passion,
The checks my plans wrote weren't good enough for cashin',
Down the rabbit-hole I went crashin'.

I pity me then he pities I,
A greener horizon sought by the eye,
Distressed with livin this lie,
The heart belted out a soundless cry.

The hands did the job that suited society,
The legs strolled towards a made-up land in a drunken sobriety ,
The path leading to a faithless county,
Where nothingness yearned for a meaningful eternity.

Is this the way I had it planned?
Or was it someone else that dealt this hand?
Was I ever in control of my band?
Or was the music of my life never meant to be grand?

Choked for air in a room full of oxygen,
I lie awake with a bullet and a gun,
Do I wait, wait at least until all is done?
Or should I begin my descent towards the sun?

The lightness of my being is felt by the bed,
The weight of the heaviness leaving the mind dead,
The unthinking finger squeezes on the trigger,
As the linens begin turning a happy shade of red,
I see myself pass away with this thought in my head - In this society that claims to be well educated, well-bred, why was I the only one left unread?