Bury me in my green sweater if I end it soon.

Don’t embalm me, let me rot, don’t lock me in a tomb.

I want to let my guts dissolve into a bloody pool

in a pine box beneath the earth where it’s nice and cool.

I’m not unhappy, I’m just tired of living life like this.

I just want the pain to end, although I have felt bliss.

Sometimes it’s simply not enough to pull me through the pain,

the pressure building in my skull, the sorrows in my brain.

Some nights I long to go to sleep and never wake again.

Some days I dwell upon the past, I think of way back when.

But no matter how far back I go I can’t think of a time

I wasn’t plagued by pain or sorrows and truly felt sublime.

The road I’ve strode has been a long one, peppered through with feats.

I am tired of trudging down these long and winding streets.