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GunShot-End

There’s a silver line in the barrel, Tiny moon, Waiting its turn, Like it knows my name. Coffee ring ghosts on the table, Same chipped cup, Same cracked joke, That stopped being funny last May. Is this the part where I matter? Is this the scene where I stay? If every road hits the same dark wall Why am I running today? Life ain’t fair! But it still feels personal Breath in the air Tastes unreturnable! Mom keeps my room like a sermon, Dust and frames, All facing front, Like a jury that never goes home. Phone screen burns in the darkness, Green dots blink, Tiny goodbyes, People I love I still scroll past alone. LIFE AIN’T FAIR! I’M SCREAMING AT THE CEILING (hey!) LOST IN A BODY THAT WON’T SHARE ITS MEANING If every road Ends under the ground we share Tell me why? Tell me why? Tell me why? Life ain’t fair! I trace my pulse with a finger, Count each thud, Little protests, Against the lead in the drawer. Laugh track stuck in my ribcage, Every breath, Half a prayer, Half “I don’t care” anymore. If it’s all one long falling Why do I fear the floor? LIFE AIN’T FAIR! AND I’M TIRED OF THE LESSON EVERYDAY SAINTS DIE IN THE SAME DEPRESSION If every road Stops at the same blank stare Why do we? Why do we? Why do we Still care? There’s a silver line in the barrel, Waiting for, My last word, I load the silence instead. Hum a tune to the hallway shadows, Soft, Off-key, Shaking hands, Choose this breath over the lead. © 2026 ▷HumAIn. All rights reserved.