I can make life
even if I die.
You see,
flowers will grow upon my grave;
my bones will be a trellis for daisies to
dance upon.
I will create life and beauty
even if I am gone.
And maybe more so.
So do not mourn me:
water the flowers upon my grave
and watch them grow
more than I could have dared.
I would be more beautiful as a playground
for pansies,
than as the imperfect mess that I am now,
as I breathe
and walk about
and live a life
a very fucked up life.
Who am I?
What am I?
Not something that feels worth it.
No, just let daises grow upon my grave.
Popp!nTalk 