Some sort of declaration

Some sort of declaration


Aware of my full responsibility, I declare, that the patience which
made me accept that life’s like that, decreases
inch by inch.

It’s time to clean this gun that I have in my hand, have a Smirnoff,
correct the mistakes in my farewell letter,
and shoot off.

Nothing can change this, my life’s a ***, a *** is every day.
This rhyme’s nice, though.
I’ll stay.