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Her Own Funeral by Amoridere, literature
Literature
Her Own Funeral
Mortality is something mundane Another thing to muse on and, presently, She mused Her relationship with Death was complex People died and she felt loss Such is existence, thus much she knew Idly counting down the years Until Death came for her She started to wonder How her own funeral would go And how old she would be She was absolute on many things Her funeral plans would be one of those things She'd be absolute on She'd hope, at least, She could will her plants and or pets To her loved ones (Of which she had few) She made a point that She'd likely be cremated, certainly And she'd rather her ashes Be given to her dearest favorite person She wondered if she'd outlive him No, she'd much rather be taken first As existence without him would be worse If fate were kind, perhaps, they'd go together She wondered how she'd be remembered This she couldn't really figure, such as she exists "Such was existence." she'd probably go She wondered what they'd wear Black or muted colors
She stood in a dark field
A handkerchief to her mouth
Among red spider lilies
There had a been a loss
And she wasn't sure how to feel
About the subject
She wasn't expecting the news
And it would be the second loss
Of the year
Four months after the previous on
It was much to take in
Nevertheless, she couldn't identify
Much less knew
How and what she felt
She stood there
In a dark field
A bloodied handkerchief to her mouth
Unsure of how to feel
Or what to do
Among those lycoris flowers
The flowers of no return.
She mused
She was silent
And so she was seething
Tea is lovely
But hers tasted bitter
She was displeased with someone
“I could poison you…” she thought, speaking to herself
She could poison them
Of course, “could” wasn’t “would”
But, regardless, she had the idea
She would amuse herself
With a gleefully morbid thought.