Deep Cold

I'm one step closer to dying.
No intention of ever crying.

Cold steel pressed against my head.
Afterwards, I'm a moldy piece of bread.

Both hands have started to shake.
I'm fully aware what is at stake.

Sitting alone in my favorite chair.
My refection sits there and stare.

The entire neighborhood will be fully alarmed.
At least there's no one around to be harmed.

Once I go will they shed any tears?
They'll celebrate with nothing but cheers.

Another solution is under the chin.
My reflection is giving me one big grin.

No stopping me, not even he can.
My heart burns like an uneven tan.

Another idea is deep inside my mouth.
I hope it works before it all goes south.

Deep I go into my sore throat.
I'll sail away like a motor boat.

A little further I start to choke.
My head will soon be up in smoke.

I close my eyes nice and tight.
Ready to feel the impact's might.

The wall behind me will be decorated.
News of my demise is highly overrated.

My life flashes right before me.
Nothing is left there to see.