pie

slit my throat so I can choke on my own blood.
stab me with sharpened spears made of wood.
do what you will to me.
just do it slow and painfully.
thataway I can feel my life fade.
bury me six feet deep.
then walk away and just forget me.
the best thing for the world is me as an ever fading memory.
six months I wont even that memory.
you'll be happy, and I'll be burning in hell.
all the while my body becomes food for the maggots in my grave.
feeding on my flesh as I decay.
a thousand years of torment everyday.
I'll be finished pretending to be strong.