who am I to decide?
is it a penchant for self-loathing?
my mind has a habit of deviation
filling answers with questions that rhyme
my heart has a practice of exhumation
and forgiving the most cold-blooded crimes
what a beautiful waste of a life.
I’m not sure what to think
is it an undeserved feeling?
a sense of false pride
to deny loss of meaning?
am I following suit
to those weaker than I?
for the introverted reason
I’m too clever to die.
who am I to decide?
