My life is pushing up daisys.
I'm made to be undone,
eventually.
Maybe fond memories, and some papers.
I was created to be removed.
I'll "take" what I've learned,
and sleep.
I imagine I'll travel Europe,
I'll find myself.
Rent a car and watch eggs hatch.
Trace my history,
meet some family,
tell them the news.
I've been made to die.
It'll be a hassle,
I promise.
You'll mourn and move on,
it's part of the process.
You'll travel across the lake,
and remeber where they learned to swim.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment