To the stars, on the wings of a pig

My name is Lauren, I have no idea what I want.
Out—out are the lights—out all!
And over each quivering form
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
While the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, “Man,”
And the hero, the Conqueror Worm.
Edgar Allan Poe