surviving or suffering

Feeling the loneliness
like a gun pressed to my head
let my hand betray me
nothing holds friendship with me
not a fire
nor its warmth
has kept my heart screaming
under its breath

I have been wandering
in a cultural graveyard
the hearts of the dead singing
It sounded so beautiful
cancer crept up
Stealing the voice
leaving the hearts cold
without song

Why am I still alone here?
Did I choose the wrong path
or did everyone else?
why does my heart still beat?
is it because it chose not to use its voice?
remain undetected

All these questions bounce around my head
like this .22 ive been holding
contemplating
feeling the warmth
The only thing I still feel.