How come
I am always dying as a martyr?
My thoughts constantly drifting
To funeral marches and sobbing relatives

How will I die?
A botched parachute jump?
Saving a small child
From a moving vehicle?

My funeral will be adorned
With white icing
The flag of my nation
And a flock of doves

Testaments
To my infinitely philanthropic nature
And unending commitment
To human liberty

Why is it so easy
To tack a medal to my breast?

Maybe because
I exist
As my bloodline
dowses its progeny with ****** praise

So eager
to bathe
In the violent tears of this world
That are ancient castles and monuments to men wearing wigs

Or maybe
Because I'm just selfish
And I often *** all over myself
On my paunchy stomach