Would it really matter if I closed my eyes,
pulled the covers over my face
and sighed my last breath away?
would anyone be there to mourn my body
consecrate to soil-
telling all my secrets to the hungriest of maggots
and the burrowing moles?

would I drift onward to another plane,
where I could hear the angels sing-
or would I just simply cease to be?
would anyone notice the lack of my face
bright and shining in day-
though languid and backlit in the night?
would anyone ask for me,
beg my forgiveness-
apologize for injustices long since done...

would it really matter how I went-
with my body to decorate cold cement
unfeeling, as the rivers runs through me
chills up my spine, voltage- electricity?
an executioner's necktie tied much too tightly-
in dark of night or with sun shining brightly?

would it really matter if I closed my world-weary eyes
shrugged and turned over, brushed the world aside-
took a deep breath and sighed my last sigh?
Slit my own wrists and pretended to cry
as the river runs from me, I bled and I died.
 
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