To live,
Or not,
that is the question:

Is it better to suffer,
as rail-car buffer,
the hurt and harrows,
slings and arrows,
of life?

Or to stand akimbo,
the soul, closed window,
by swallowing pills
take arms against kills,
emancipation
through medication,
Is that life?
Or death?

To sleep away the heart-ache that flesh is heir to,
to dull with chemicals, and wear one's heart as Hollywood hairdo,
is that a consummation devoutly to be wish'd?

or to feel the whips of time,
the scorns of human grime,
the blood that's shaken from heart receiving fist?

the unnatural pantomime
of *******, predatory crime,
be pounded into dust as worthless grist?

To live the oppressor's wrong,
but yet to hear heaven's song,
to suffer the spurn of love,
but free to scale the worlds above,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
experience overwhelm of nerves and strife,
but to feel the needle and face it as a man?

To live,
Or not,
Is that a question?