by Dorothy Parker
We know that we're being a bit obvious here. But check it out: almost every single line in this poem offers an idea for a different way to die.
When it comes to wordplay, Parker's not messing around – there aren't any extraneous similes or metaphors or fancy-shmancy puns or plays with language. Nope. There's just a growing stack of images… and none of them are all that pleasant. Our speaker stacks up options: razors, rivers, acids, pills, guns, nooses, and gas.