When the hourglass that is my life
Runs out of sand, I hope no strife
Will be the cause of my death
To die in an imaginative way
Would be what I’d crave today
If old age wouldn’t be my final breath
Say I were an adventurer brave and strong
Probing a temple that has been long
Abandoned by some native tribe
I would grab the golden treasure
And to their extinct pleasure
Arrows through my skull proscribe
I could be trekking the Serengeti
When a lion begins to throw confetti
And a party begins to ensue
Then suddenly from the skies above
B-10 Bombers unleash their love
And by these “booms” we are slew
Maybe in the final frontier
I could be dueling with some sheer
Alien with pulsing ventricles
My laser ray could explode
And I would then be stowed
Into the behemoth’s tentacles
What if I was leisurely swimming
And a shark approached, incisors grinning
When a whirlpool would begin to shape
An emerald mass of mucus ascending
Cthulhu stares with doom impending
And I am subjected to its mouth’s gape
If I were to perish in these ways
I could laugh at my corpse any day
Great exhilaration for myself
Old age would be the most peaceful
But these ways could have much regal
Stories behind my declining health
