What a Shame We Only Die One Death

Never can we feelboth the piercing of lungs with a swordand the separation of head from neck.And if our end is met with a failure of heartor overgrowth of cells,then never can we knowthe slow release of freezing limbs waningin shades of aubergine one by one,finger by finger, toe by toe.

Oh! Wouldn’t it be something to knowhow both Ophelia and Juliet felt.But we must choose one or the other:To feel the body slowly sink underor to drink our final bitter libation,That is the question.

If we meet our end through torture,if we’re torn limb from limb,our spleen eaten as a fowlish feast,then we’ll understand the ancient painof poor Prometheus, but unlike him,we’ll never get to die another death.

And never know the courage it takesTo slowly drain your own life with a slitand a drip of your own knife,If our end is a quick flash of a crashAnd the breaking of glass.

So many possible doors to the same end,A pity we can only ever open one.What a shame we only die once.