Poetry Book: Shot

Shot in the head.
Once again.
Can't seem to avoid it.
I'd like to live a bit.

But I keep dying,
Everyday.
I get brought up high
Just to fall from the sky.

Perfection is unobtainable,
And yet it's what I need.
I don't know why I get
So affected. It's like a debt.

I can never repay.
Never earn enough
To pay it back in full.
Life is such a handful.

Shot in the head,
With my own bullet.
Everytime, the fault my own.
Bullet flies through any bone.