Pull

I stand here

Still, not moving

Driven by the thoughts in my head

And the words from your mouth

I pull the rope

I sit here

Tears streaming down my face

My hands trembling

Holding the one object that would end this all

I pull the knife

I look at the wall

Dull, blank of color

Soon it will be covered in a new paint

Splattered where it never was before

I pull the trigger

I stare at the ceiling

Laying in this cold bed

Slow beeps echoing off the walls

Silence encases the room

I pulled the plug