Suicide Central

Grab a glass.
Pour yourself some vodka.
I'll get you the pills
And book you a fancy room.
The needle is quite blunt,
But it could get through your skin.
The chemical is strong, it would let you win.
Enjoy yourself, as I sharpen the blade
Or would you prefer a quick whiff, and a bullet's pain?
"To my fucked up life!",
You say as you raise your glass.
Taking a long swig, scrunching your tired face,
Then smile.
Smile because it is your last.

Because you lost all hope.

I give you the keys then say, "next customer please".