I have swallowed my sinister laugh,
then thrown it up as a small cough.
I have crumpled up my helpless cry,
then tossed it up into the sky.
I have spoken of my silence,
then buried it deep in my conscience.
I have whispered my constant screech,
then pitched it far out of my hands' reach.
I have lived my so-called life,
then sashayed myself out of a strife.
I would like to meet my long sleep,
that goes very, very, very deep.
There will remain nothing cared.
Nothing will stand for that which is ever dared.