My first morning back home after my failed suicide attempt.
It's cold and quiet
They said they found me at my desk, smoking a cigarette
Waiting for the end
97 pills came gushing out of me thanks to the charcoal they make you swallow
Maybe three more would've been the magic number
Many friends came to see me in my hospital bed
As I pissed in a bag and laughed at the lab coats
Even then, I was thinking of the loves and lovers I lost,
Those who wouldn't care if I were dead anyway
To them, I suppose I already am
2 comments:
Living well is the best revenge.
Welcome back my friend. Let's make some comics.
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