Writing

Random shit I've written.

Flowers

When I die let me grow into a patch of flowers.
Like a spring come too late,
vivid colors and curved petals explode from my soul;
all hate disolved,
acting as fuel for future generations of bees & butterflies.
Their presence absolution of my past.

In that moment of supreme tenderness let me be forgotten;
let no grave stone stain this ground,
with its cold aftertaste, memories of the past.
Let that moment after be joyus,
without me.
My only rememberence an uncredited kindness.
"I" now only a kindness.