Yes, it's a poem, but it's based on my interpretation of Moritz' thoughts just before his suicide. So it works.
I've been stumbling
through this dark forest
every night now,
the cool metal of the gun
pressed upon my fingers.
And every night
I raise the barrel
to my skull
with a shaking hand.
But every night
I wait another day.
What's the point?
My world crumbles around me,
and as I stand
among the rubble,
I think to myself,
Wouldn't it be
better if I just…
disappeared?