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I ask to be or not to be. That is the question I ask of me. This sullied life, it makes me shudder. My uncle's boffing dear sweet mother. Would I, could I take me life? Could I, should I end this strife? Should I jump out of a plane? Or throw myself before a train? Should I from a cliff just leap? Could I put myself to sleep? Shoot myself or take some poison? Maybe try self immolation? To shudder off this mortal coil, I could stab myself with a fencing foil. Slash my wrists while in the bath? Would it end my angst and wrath? To sleep, to dream, now there's the rub. I could drop a toaster in my tub. Would all be glad if I were dead? Could I perhaps kill them instead? This line of thought takes consideration -- For I'm the king of procrastination.
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