Suicide

There is a lionhearted pride

In suicide, the iron will

To hang or swallow cyanide.

Samewise as death, life’s bitter pill

Has equalised all trifling things;

To be unborn’s the perfect case,

For needing not to cut their strings

The matterless retain their grace.

Alas, arrival in the flesh

To fallen imperfection's cave,

Makes due escape to breath afresh,

Sooner than later for the brave.

Awareness conquers natural greed,

As wallowing in lust and dirt

It begs to reproduce and feed

Undignified and unalert.

I'll die transcended from the vale-

Rejoice! the mother eats her young,

The snake digests its tail,

Death is won.