Yeah. That’s the poem I have writted down and wrapped around a 30.06 shell in my little private box. I wrapped it around that bullet to remind me that the fight is all have left. Well Dylan Thomas was wrong. I was wrong. I have disappointed everyone who was close to me too much and too many times. Tonight, I’ll shoot myself. This is not some pussified cry for help. I dont care what you think. I dont know why I’m even writing this.