Cold End Nothing Rotting

I feel the coldness of death approaching me as I sit much as a disobedient child squirming in my chair.
I know not what death is.
I know not what life is.
I have only sat shivering and waited in the midst of the cold.

I feel the reproach of all things that have come to pass and the somber message of what waits ahead.
I know not all mistakes I have made.
I know not what the future holds.
I have only experienced at all, it seems, to remember and wonder to no end.

I feel the will to live as a good person but a moral life is not what survival entails.
I know not how to survive.
I know not how to die.
I have only lived each day in the proving grounds of a society in denial of it's own Nihilism; winning nothing.

I feel the world is inherently doomed to rot and devour itself as a festering animal shrinks.
I know not where lechery, avarice and hate come from.
I know not what killed the animal.
I have only been forced to smell it rotting.