The Suicide + 

For fifty years, + 

Cruel, insatiable Old World, + 

You have punched me over the heart + 

Till you made me cough blood. + 

The few paltry things I gathered + 

You snatched out of my hands. + 

You have knocked the cup from my thirsty lips. + 

You have laughed at my hunger of body and soul. + 

You look at me now and think, + 

“He is still strong, + 

There ought to be twenty more years of good punching there. + 

At the end of that time he will be old and broken, + 

Not able to strike back, + 

But cringing and crying for leave + 

To live a little longer.” + 

Those twenty, pitiful, extra years + 

Would please you more than the fifty past, + 

Would they not, Old World? + 

Well, I hold them up before your greedy eyes, + 

And snatch them away as I laugh in your face, + 

Ha! Ha! + 

Bang⁠—! + 