Every breath is a tiny little death. Every heartbeat is one closer to the end. Think about it; Comprehend, We all go to the same end. Every thought weakens you mind a bit. Your neural pathways decay. You begin to fade away, As your mind rots from day to day Nothing you do will stand the test of time. Everything crumbles and fades. Oh how heavy the knowledge weighs, Everything you create, will be trash in so many days. So the question becomes: suicide or old age? Or perhaps an untimely death. Who's to say which is best.