Grim Report

A poem about the joy of death.

If the report came out

That our darkest day has arrived

I would be the happiest little human on planet Earth

At peace with all things

Finally, there is a way out. A way out for which I cannot be blamed.

A way out wherefore I shall not be missed, for all who care to remember shall be snuffed out.

The dead cannot care.

No longer will the weight of the future be so very tangible

It will no longer plague my thoughts.

I will watch as they cry. Oh they will run and scream and regret and dream.

But I...

I who cannot take my own life, as I've wished I could so many times

Will smile and close my eyes, for the end is nigh.

Perhaps in the next life, I'll go back in time.

Perhaps in time I'll like being alive.

But oh how I long for that grim report...

The meteor coming to cut our lives short.

No gun in my mouth or rope on my neck

I will smile.

I may die and not be missed.