The Problem of Suicide

I think of suicide, every day
it is the reflection, of death
that fills me with joy, as I roll
my rock in the heat,
in the rain,
to the best
of my ability;

For I am master of my domain,
and an alternative of oblivion
is infinitely worse than any toil
and knowing this
sets me free
from humanity;

and I find love, knowing that
all of my actions are indelibly
branded on the universe,
and that even my most casual exhalations
make a difference.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.