How many
More creative
Ways can I say
I wanna die.

I hear they're
Gonna
Go to
Mars.

While I moulder
In my filth,
Ferment in
My forgetfulness.

And God
Says,
Put in more
Work
Slave.

And,
I do.

But I've gone
Past redemption
Got stuck
In retribution.

And all of this
Torment
Would end.

If I could only
Just disappear
Into
The epilogue
Of an
Obituary.