When all is lost in a singularity
I'd revel in the sheer delight
of watching my limbs tear from my body.
To know that my soul is shred,
skinned alive.
I'll fathom new depths to pain
even for a brief moment.
I'll think and think and think and think
and observe how my thoughts dissolve
I'll live and thrive in that moment,
feel alive as long as I can.
My gruesome death would leave a lesson:
There are some things, that can't be taken.
as I ironically dissapear without a trace left.

Perfectly abusing life and death.
Because one cannot exist without the other.
My death could not have existed without my life
and dying would solidify my message through my existence.
And I'll keep weaving a web of extremities
and leave this life a God.
A message written through a void.
Creation through nothing.
The feeling of having "It, who takes" at a checkmate.

The shadow of my soul laughs loud.
As I peer in Death's eyes
and let him watch how I set myself free through his confinement.
I'll leave, giving the King a brief moment of what it's like to be truly powerless.