Deathbed
I am working hard to furnish my deathbed,
I don’t want my end to be excruciating.
I know there won’t be anyone besides me in my last few days
Therefore, I’ll have to arrange my provisions when I am young.
I know I won’t have my own family,
Because I don’t plan to marry someone,
And feed her to the demons in my head.
I won’t lure her into this.
There will be no sons to look after me
when I wither away slowly,
And no loyal friends to take me in
when I turn into an invalid.
However, I know I won’t wither much slowly,
I might just as well die in my prime,
Because my mental illness can’t let me live diligently,
And my lungs are slowly filling up with smoke.
The time is running out,
And I must arrange my provisions,
Because when my end is close,
I don’t want it to hurt much.
This life was painful enough,
So when it’s time to go,
I just wish to be covered with the blankets of death,
And fall into a long, peaceful sleep.
– Grey
