I Forgave The Wheel

I uesd to smile sometimes albeit, reluctantly but,
Now, I think I might be ready.
I don't want to fight with someone I love.
I plan on losing myself to the same old, just happier,
Maybe even better.
Suicide has a form and becomes us all, eventually.

How do you want to die?

This question I asked often traversing the roundabouts
In the form of a younger hope.
The only difference I find is I don't fear as much.

The only question I care to ask is, "can we still make eachother smile
When we're screwing it all up?"