A poem about what one man wanted and regrets finding.
| I want to live forever.
I never want to die.
I want to feel and see everything, to be everything.
I am afraid to die.
The process is done.
Done secretly, against my wife's wishes, I am now immortal.
Euphoric is weak for an explanation, humbling insignificant.
My wife and children have left me, but I am still alive.
I have been in several test accidents and survived.
Nothing can touch me.
I can do anything, bad.
Laws of Man and God do not apply to me.
Death and destruction I have left in my wake.
Secretly starting wars, plagues, and famine I watched millions die around me.
I still survive. The smile on my face aches.
I feel glorious.
Years creep along. I have lost track of time.
All I have known, all I have needed, is gone.
The world is cold and dark. Snow falls constantly.
Winds blow unmercifully, unceasing.
The smile I once had dissolved centuries ago replaced by one of indifference.
I do not care as I trudge through the deep snow.
I do not feel the cold; its stinging bite has no teeth.
I do not want to feel anymore.
The sun, though high overhead, is stunted.
Dull it is, its life-giving warmth long since faded.
Mankind has long since gone.
I am alone on my world, my world of loneliness.
It is my perfect barren world.
Nothing moves but the snow and the relentless bitter wind.
Images of my wife and children have long since faded.
There is nothing in the future, the past distant beyond my now feeble imagination.
I want to die.
Will I die?
Help me, God.