Shoot me

Please shoot me, she said
You’re my psychiatrist
You should know how to end this

I’ve run out of ideas
how to make it better
I don’t like being me
so unless you can turn me into somebody else
which is against your ethics I guess
please shoot me

Shoot me in the eye
for I can’t stand looking in the mirror
Shoot me in the mouth
I no longer want to hear myself speak
Shoot me in the foot
to keep me from walking downhill any further
Shoot me in the brain
I can’t stand my way of thinking no more

I’ll give it a shot, he answered
much to her surprise
A psychiatrist with a sense of humour
there should be a law against that
but he meant

Gimme a break she, said
He answered yes
That’s exactly what I’ll do

Musical suggestion for the digestion of this poem:

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