A Suicidal Trend

As my vision began to blur,
my memories surged with pain and heartache.
As my blood soaked hands, about to break,
for the last time, touched his cold, hard face.
What had gone wrong in this diseased place?

Down my face streamed tears a fragile as glass,
I now wished only for time to quickly pass.
The smooth black gun, still clutched in his gentle hand,
if only I could understand why he had gone so mad...

As I began to take my final breath,
as my face grew cold, I reminisced all the times we had.
After all, death wasn't so bad. And once again
I began to realize, all this had become was the newest, deadly fad.