As The Vultures Circle

Knowing you are going to die
is a hard thing accepted at first.
Laying in a pool of your own fucking blood
as the vultures circle over your fucking head...

with a bullet in your gut.
This is a slow and painful death.
Millions of things run through your mind.
Too many "what ifs?" to count.

As I lay in a pool of a blood, I can't help but think,
will I be remembered? The answer is; probably not.
I try to make it to my feet to no prevail.

EVERYTHING IS GOING BLACK.

EVERYTHING IS GOING BLACK.

I think I have died only to wake up
as if this is some sort of sick fucking joke.
This is not a dream, still bleeding.
Still filled with all of this pain.