If I die, don’t bury me with flowers.
I don’t need that mockery, it’s my deathday.
I already got enough flowers for every buried,
haunted and frenetic thoughts and emotions.
Bury me with a bible of weed,
It is most comforting than these flowers of mockery.
Sativa; she helped me with a happy life.
Indica; she was loyal, had my back whenever I was down.
Purple Haze; wild & young, her beauty I can’t rebuff.
Plant them around my tomb, assist me to a trip with the most High.
I know my sins won’t get me there, so as to your flowers.
Let the weed make my own heaven.
Atleast, I’ll be the most high in a place that’s my own.
Offer me a sanctuary of tranquility in death,
But don’t offer me a bed of roses.

For someone who hates flowers, I get them too much.
I’m scared that even when I die I’ll have too many flowers by my graveside,
My spirit won’t be able to rest well, even at death.
Why can’t they replace the flowers with my favorite chocolates?
Why can’t they replace the flowers with my favorite energy drinks?
He doesn’t know what these flowers do to me,
Mama got so many flowers when she died, these flowers only make me remember the horrible things she went through before her death.
It’s so hard battling with these memories,
Every time I try to tell him how these flowers make me feel, it ends in a fight,
Then he’d beat me again and send me flowers the next day all in the name of making amends.
It’s either I walk away from this nightmare or I die!

By Omale Rex & Mae



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