A skeleton sitting there,
Staring with eyes hollow and bare,
Blissfully unaware,
Of tragedies everywhere.

Oh, how I envy his state,
Though dead and doing nothing great,
I would rather be him than suffocate,
In the worries of this world and the great debate.

For on this terrestrial sphere,
There is not a soul without fear,
Except the skeleton sitting here,
Who is truly free with no puppeteer.

How I wish to be in that chair,
Free from pain and despair,
Blissfully unaware, of tragedies everywhere,
Just like the skeleton sitting there.