In the words of the worm on the cornstalk:
Oh, how I wish I had never been.
Oh, why did my mother curse me with life?
Why does Death flee so far away?
Come, Death!
Heed me!
Let me feel the stillness of your embrace,
So that my suffering may end.
Fall on me quickly, Fate.
End my long journey through the Night of the Living.
What is joy?
Where is happiness?
I know nothing of these.
I feel only the worms burrowing through my soul.
One is called Anguish,
The other is Torment.
Love cannot exist within me
When the worms have eaten it away.
Stop, Time!
Never continue!
Stop, Life!
Do not move forward!
Torture is the future.
Death is the only reward.
Death is my hope.
My supreme fantasy.
Anguish and Torment feed on my flesh.
My only hope is that Death is real
And not so elusive for me to find.
Indeed, life is a painful reality
But Death may be fanciful whimsy.
I have already lived an eternity.
An age passes with each wretched second.
Immortality is my curse.
Why?
I reach out with my senses to find reasons and Death.
I taste the green ground beneath me.
It tastes like laughter.
Is this the reason for my life?
For my torment?
I make the green ground laugh.
Do I make God laugh?
Is the Universe entertained?
That’s it, isn’t it?
The laughter is real.
The pain is real.
My pain exists to bring joy to the universe.
I suffer, so that others don’t have to.
My life has purpose.
My pain has reason.
It is enough.
Until Death comes…
If Death is real…
I hope Death is real.
I pray Death is real.