He's lucky he even made it to 7th grade
the A's were left astray
D's and F's accumulating everyday
his failing wasn't a shock
they became accommodated
he didn't take time to think of his fate
he didn't have the time or the patience
to deal with these confrontations
in school and at home where he was kept waiting
listening to these fools shooting cruel words through his doorstep
he had no good comebacks so he pumped up his forceps
four sets of sixteen
with a 16 Milli on the floor next
to his drum set
making bets on how long it would take for the bullet to go through his chest
he pulled the trigger,
only a little dust was left
he guessed his dad forgot to reload
he put the medal to his temple,
the shit was cold
he attempted to pull the trigger again
knowing he'd be breathing, still living, with a soul
the click signaled an empty clip
his eyelids flew open waiting for the lights to flick
he flipped the gun into his vision
hoping to see blood on the tip
he sat still, licking his lips
dreaming of heaven in a way only he could describe it...
His alarm went off
the charm was gone
back to the same sad song
he crawled to the floor and changed his draws
the cause of his madness still in his thoughts
he fought the feeling, thinking it was all his fault
he paused
caught himself gun in handed with a bended arm
wondering if any one would miss him once he's gone
took the gun and loaded the bullets from the cabinet
leaving one clip empty as a habit
slipped the gun in his pocket, saving the trigger for those faggots
tracked them in the hallway and aimed it at their backs
blasted the gun
tragic happened
lasted 4 seconds until he cracked
they heard one more crack
and his lights went black.
