Flesh and hair yield no interest in me these days.
Limbs and lips are just accessories to the soul.
No one carries a drop of my blood in their heart,
So why carry on living in an empty vessel,
An empty sack of bones and non functional organs?
Instead, I wish I were a small secluded flower
Up on a hill with fresh air and vanilla spring water.
Dying as a person demands attention and harsh fluorescent lights.
A stench of biohazard trash and wasted moments besiege a white, sterilized room.
But wilting and withering away like a flower
Must be the most peaceful way to go...
Surrounded by life as the sun sets and a light scent
Of blooming roses and imminent rain lovingly intoxicate
Delicate and decaying parts of me,
A simple form of life on earth...
To lie so still cushioned by a quilt of grass,
While the sun warms me up,
And it's dark counterpart cools me down
Day after day,
Until I've withered thoroughly
And have at last joined the the souls of nature deceased.
