Die On Command Poem by Dakota Ellerton

To the grave I'll go,
someday.
I'll perish to the sight of change,
cringe at the thought.
As if I were a fly,
my wings have been pulled.
Leaving me for dead,
I lay squirming on the floor.
Nasty child.
It seems I would not give up just yet,
only to prove to myself I could.
I do the opposite.
No matter what that may be.
What would I be,
if I did what I was told?
Lay down and die.
No! I won't,
only because you told me to.