Though I walk freely, my time is not my own
The mass inside me demands that I atone
Abomination made of invasive cells
"Becoming non-being," it utters at the outset of every day

Unable to breath, enshrouded in fear
Shadowed, withered, the specter incessantly appears

The Seconal
A noble fall by script of death
A somber bypath
When abyssal night carves its way inside, will they let me die?

With the taste of my own blood and the stench of seeping pores
I call upon my sovereignty to bring me home
Self-made ending, transfer the power from the vile form
One last autonomous effort to accept what I've become

Prescription is filled, it goes in the drawer
A final response for all that's in store
A choice to remove a terminal weight with dignity spared
Command of my fate

A gathering of kin to witness my final breath
Their hands and words allay me
Memories to bring to death

The brine assuages the terrors that I've buried
Its spirit slows my thoughts
Foreboding replaced with a cosmic clarity
The truth illuminates the dark

And all is quiet
No voices, no sounds disturb my slumber
The silence surrounds

Legends have spoken of a terrible darkened sea
All are mistaken; an unending ecstasy