(Loosely based on me when I was severely depressed years ago. It could be about anyone who ever felt that way I suppose.)

When you go to sleep at night,

Do your problems go away?

Are they there the next morning,

To torment your life each day?

Does it feel like there's no hope,

In this life you call your own?

Is it worth it to continue,

Any reason to carry on?

Are you deep in dark despair,

When you consider suicide?

And to think of friends and family,

Will they miss you when you die?

It all feels like such a failure,

With a gun pointed at your head.

Are you at peace with yourself,

To know that soon you will be dead?

Now it's too late for regrets,

Or to think of second thoughts.

In death you have succeeded,

And accomplished what you've sought.

All these years you've waited,

For this wretched life to cease.

Now you can find contentment,

In this death that you call peace.