Death Comes For Us All

Let's go fast.
Get it all over with at once.
That's the best thing, dying soon.
There's a fear of death, I'm sure,
but more often than not
what keeps you from ending it
is more the shame of giving up.
If you do yourself in,
it means you couldn't cut it.
You weren't tough enough.
You folded under the pressure.
Do you ever wonder how many of us are here
just because we'd be ashamed to end it?
Come on now, be honest:
is there any goal in life
worth all the tedium of the thing?
Sickening, really, the way life drags on,
the way it's such a superhuman effort
just to be a mediocre hack.
(I'm sure it's painful for you.)
Sometimes I almost wish I'd been a doctor.
I'd love to do assisted suicides.
Send those gentle souls off to oblivion,
one by one.
Save them suffering.

So very humanitarian...

It's all about death, in the end,
making love to that icy quiet death.
That's why you can't commit suicide;
you'd be too easy for death.
Suicide is for sluts.

Be good, then. Be virtuous.
Fight off death till your last breath.
Make it take you by force.
Death comes for us all in the end...

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(Photo credit: "Nude Woman and Grief" from x1klima on Flickr)