A gunshot in the temple, tempered by cocaine;
Barbiturates, so honeyed dreams shall never fade;
Or seppuku and its seizing, searing pain
As tenderly nurtured flesh meets the whetted blade;

Plunge a dagger into one's own neck, and wailing
Screeching, screaming qualis artifex pereo;
Or must it be by self-immolation, flailing,
Buckling, gyrating in an obscene rodeo;

Fall upon one's sword, or trust one's loyal maiden
To smuggle in an asp and to it surrender;
Perhaps a ripened apple, cyanide-laden
To exit without pain, and go out in splendour;

Which is it truly, the most beautiful way
To pass into freedom, and escape from today?

(a-b-a-b c-d-c-d e-f-e-f g-g)


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