Reeling from the feeling of being so unbelievably empty inside and sad to be alive,
he lashes out against his unhealthy mind and cries out for help,
but there is no one near to hear.
His mind is fine with that.
Chronic solitude is a great situation,
at least in his mind's eye.
He stares down the barrel of a shotgun in search of assistance.
Ain't none to be found there,
cause he sent the last of his shells sailing through empty ale cans earlier that day.
He aims his gaze all around the deserted glade,
screams at silent trees,
breaks down in a lonely place and swears love to sunbleached bones.
There's death aplenty here,
but none of it's worth mentioning,
cause none of it's his.
Walking into the woods much unsteady and dreading everything that doesn't end him,
he comes of a sudden up against a cliff,
and looks over the edge with a head full of wonder.
Unfortunately,
this is as close as he'll get to game over for a good long while,
cause his mind has plans to keep him reeling from the feeling of being forever.
If you're looking for happiness,
you're either in the wrong place,
or you haven't figured out what you're looking for yet.