Seppuku

One morning Bangladesh

the blade plunged into my flesh.

Onlookers fled in fright

as I wrenched it to the right.

As my entrails began to spill,

the children’s shrieks grew shrill.

I sliced toward my spinal cord,

then de-plunged my rusty sword.

I scribed symbols into the earth

at the place of my humble birth.

With the tintinnabulation of the bell

my soul was eternally damned to hell.

As the kaishakunin severed my neck

the waiter handed me the check.

Then I paid the gruesome bill.

Oh, why hadn’t I taken the blue pill?