suicidal typing

Laughter is stuck in the back of my lungs , slaughtering motherfuckers with THC in the back with guns , target practice stuck at home manipulating hundreds , staring at it wondering to myself do I really need it, bored asf thinking of others are probably begging for it ,stuck spinning around in circles trying not to forget death is right in time it could take mine any minute , didn't realize I was playing with the knife that could've taken it , praying to god for forgiveness I wonder if he can accept it or leave me with his unfinished business , once you go everything you did for me will be finished , I won't do anything to upset our last name it will be all that I will cherish , but if anyone tries to take that away your life is what I'll take not even hesitating .

This poem is about: 
My family
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 


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