Deliver me from this contradiction.
Isolate all of the living fiction.
Take one more breath and then it starts.
Commencing death is more than an art.

I'm fighting egos and vindication.
Running from promises of mental vacations.
Calling out to the world in hope of a hero.
Gazing at the walls as I inch towards zero.

My life experience is the embodiment of friction.
Suicidal tendencies that only leave stitches.
Dust to dust, ashes to ashes.
Listening to my life end in a series of crashes.

Another second till evacuation.
My mind has given my body its sanction.
It'll be one breath, two breath then one more.
Then my soul will flee through my inner core.

My fingers grow numb in anticipation.
Waiting for the blood to abort its station.
My vision grows dim and the second hand moves.
One last breath and I'm forever soothed.