“this is your captain speaking, we’re all going to die.”

they told me I was playing with fire and I’d be sorry.

well, I proved them all wrong because she was the bullet of a loaded gun

aimed straight at the back of my head.

The last thing I remember is nothing at all

Lodged in my skull with the velocity of a runaway train

Painting the walls with every thought prior to her arrival

They told me to just walk away

I think I’ll let my synapses trigger the final erratic movement

In an opposite direction

Auto-pilot on.