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My thoughts zag one way, and then in the opposite direction they zig
When I contemplate whether killing myself  would be noble or ig.
When life’s troubles are a sea as vast as the Atlantic or the Pacific,
Suicide takes on the aspect of an alluring soporific,
For eternal sleep would end once and for all the need to grin and bear it
When confronted by the vicissitudes that human flesh must inevitably
But when I consider that the dreams associated with the sleep of death
   might prove to be nightmarish,
My bullish attitude toward snuffing myself transforms into one which is
   decidedly bearish.
The list of life’s pains and indignities is lengthy, featuring all manner of
   people in positions of power who mistreat us, to say nothing of girls who
   won’t date us.
It’s enough to give a fellow a yen for a bodkin-induced quietus,
Except that we can at least claim a certain familiarity with the burdens this
   world compels us to shoulder,
Whereas we don’t know what to expect once our mortal remains have
   started to moulder.
The result of all our thinking and rethinking on this subject is that our bold
   determination becomes sadly feeble and pale-complected
And a decisive course of self-destructive action ends up getting rejected.