Try not to die.
Death is way overrated.
You don't rest in peace
Rolling in the deep;
Or sit on clouds
Feeling high.
You're dead.
It's not a compromise
From daily woes;
It's not respite
From daily blows.
It's death.
Simple and permanent.
And if you think
For one eternal second
You'll hover, ghost-like,
At your funeral,
And hear stories
About how great you are,
Were,
Or, see your enemies cry,
Forget it.
You didn't get even
With anybody
By killing yourself.
I suspect,
And this is stretching it,
If possible,
You wouldn't be interested
In the living
Anyway.
You got dead.
For ever and ever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem