i want to die in the arms of tomorrow
'cos papa said,
in between her breasts,
hides a dewy dawn
which promises to moisten
my withering soul with
spherical droplets of hope.
so, seductive suicidal rope,
let me alone!
i have chosen to die
in the arms of tomorrow
when sorrow will be too ashamed
to attend my funeral,
for mine, will be unlike others-
a triumphant entry to the grave
with palm fronds of achievements
carpeting the floor on which
my casket will ride,
galloping away to victory.
oh Suicide,thou friend
with a scented accent,
regardless of how convincingly you speak,
i have chosen to die in the arms of tomorrow!