Scream, scream beyond belief,

The gravedigger’s foul stench of rum and rotting teeth.

He tosses me in, buries me alive,

There are no thoughts of how I shall survive.

Six feet of dirt packed so tight,

And not a single spec of glorious light.

As my air is trimming down, running out,

I’ve finally discovered what this life is about.

It doesn’t deal with God, or Satan, or work, or play,

Nor is it about how you live your life day-to-day.

It’s about two words,

Ones that are quite absurd:

Life and Death.

Your first and last breath.

The second we’re born we begin to die,

Unable to speak but ready to say goodbye.

No light, no hope, no air,

My claustrophobia outbursts in despair.

But after a good eight hours of throttling, I accept how I am fated,

Welcome the fact that I am the biggest mistake He’s ever created.

But death is what I want, and I await to be the Devil’s slave,

I dismally pass through the fires in this omniscient grave.