Over

over

That metallic taste,
My chemical hell,
A journey to here after,
A sign I'm not well.

Lined up in a row,
The countdown begins,
1,2,10....,
I think they're kicking in.

Be it swift or slow,
No stopping it now,
Why the hell would I want to?
No more tears from this brow.

My last thought is my boys,
And the truths that I told,
I wish I was stronger,
To be there till your old.

I'm sorry boys. Your hearts will hurt less this way.
Xx