Game over.

I sit here.
Death in one hand,
Life in the other.
The weight of death,
Leaves my hand heavy.
The weight of life,
Keeps my hand floating.
The gentle flow of life,
Verses the jagged points of death,
Leave me in astonishment.

I sit back.
I replay my life,
As if it were a motion picture.
I have a vision of death,
A still life vision.
I think of her,
Life.
And him,
Death.
How beautiful a relationship.

I stand.
Alone.
Forgotten.
A figment of imagination.

I raise my hand holding death.
I press his cold, unforgiving, barrel,
To my head.

I envision me,
And him,
Colliding.

I wrap my trembling finger,
Around the trigger.
A lonesome tear,
Rolls down my already tear stained cheek.
I envision my loved ones.
All of them.
Smiling.
Happy.

I fall to my knees.
Resting on the last string of life.
All of my fears?
Vanish.
My dreams?
Gone.
Love?
Disappears.
Life hangs in the balance.
It is... outweighed.
By death.

I pull the trigger.
My deed is done.
Game over.