What would you rather
me do for death?
Jump oceans and climb sandstorms
or take one last sweet breath?

What would you rather
me do to survive?
Rip off my eyeballs
or watch you take strides?

What would you rather
me to be, happy or sad?
Because right about now
I feel simply mad.

And you are the cause
of my destructive self.
Whether you like it or not,
your picture's off my shelf.