Isn’t death sweeter

Succumbed in this wretchedness,
With leisurely pleasures, innocence,
I, who am I? live and breathe,
wade hither tither, meaninglessly.

Supposed inevitability of fallacies,
Objective limitations? Rationalised observations?
Guide me to no port, is there one?
Of what good, your mind, ye, acknowledged mortal?

Doth thou believe you are right?
In your hollow customs and answers?
Feeble-minded fools live happily.
You say you know better, do you?

If certain end or beginning evades me?
If truth is nowhere? hidden? Seldom exist?
If this sense-data is real, none else matter?
To what do I owe my life? Isn’t death sweeter?