The Art of Dying Well
Close the lid on this detrimental world,
where a grandiose scheme of insidious measures
blizzards forth across this terrain.
What beautiful corpse
shall I make of me
as to turn the atoms of my flesh
into a state of wholesome elegance?
When death grasps hold
of the fruitless melody
which dictated through chortling teeth
my life, shall I be gifted again
with the opportune prerogative
to endure the mistakes
which brought me to this standstill
if my cadaver is indeed attractive?
When collapsing from where my feet
held firm the decisions
of my circumstantial woes,
shall my memories be of beauty,
so unapologetic and serene,
or the embers of corroded ash
which once comprised the foundations
of my many misplaced principles?