Think About It

In my line of thinking, the use of the word "we" is mostly irrelevant. We never think about these kinds of things.

We don't usually...

No.

We don't do anything.

I can't speak for the group's perspective anymore.

I talk about this all the time. We hate to think of it. I'm talking about death. The inevitable. The children in their hospital death beds with their one last wish. The list of things you want to do before you get old. That one thing you have to do before you die. That desperate, grasping, final breath.

The cold dead fingers that still refuse to let go.

The last laugh.

We've got problems.

This is what I'm talking about. Who wants to live forever? Not I. Not after fully realizing the truth.

Not that I want to kill myself or something. I just want to die. Is there a term for that? Suicidal subtract tendencies. A death wish subtract the wish. Really, I want to grow old faster. I want to die sooner. And never look back. Never be caught up in this world of desire, grabbing for things to hold on to that I know in my heart won't follow me into death.

I don't want to be avenged. And I don't care if we[you] feel sad about it. Why don't you try grabbing me before I go. Maybe you can tear a chunk of flesh from me, to keep, for later. A bone to chew on. Or hope I might leave you lots of money or stuff when I go. Something to remember me by.

Something to chew.

Think about it.