haunting images

scattered on the floor.

the cold, dirty floor.

memories burning

in the pits of hell.

pathetic.

empty faces

lost expressions

stare back at you

the masks removed 

and placed

on the table. 

the scene painted

before you.

what options

remain?

you place your focus

down the barrel

of a gun.

round and round the bullet spins

if it emerges

fate decides.

decisons, decisions

so many 

yet none.

decisions, decisions

point the gun inward

and if it shoots

i'll be done...