"They tell me that to kill is wrong, to end a life is vile
I’ll not argue or persuade, we’d be here for a while
Instead I’m here to share with you a different point of view
Imagine if, for story’s sake, I might be killing you.
Now think of all the ways that this would be a lovely thing
Think of all the fates that strip you of your mind and bling
Think of all the slaves that weep, or worse, are happy fools
Think of all the minds with wires, like Sansha’s special tools.
Imagine if your dignity was stripped away by fate
And someone cruel had hold of you, what’s ‘you’ he could remake
Imagine if your world became immortal, long, and hell
Imagine if you had no say, your body fed by gel.
Now if this fate was so far done you never could return
Your body they might liberate, but still for death you’d yearn
Lost in the tangles of your mind, like edges of a mirror
Slit apart like skin and rind, each night a dream of fear.
In this way, could you and I, let my knife come near?
In this place, where you could die, would wanting death be queer?
I think that you and I could ride the final winding pike
Into the instant-nothing-black, the sleep that we all like.
That place where Mother bore you in the Nothing-That-Begets
That place where we could store you till the ‘you’ you can forget
That place you were before you crossed into this wasted world
Where everyone adores you and your deepest love unfurls."
- Nimrat Kaur, New Arbali Scrolls YC 125