Katie B.

The Death of Me

 

In death we do no wrong

To the remainders

Who smoke of our benevolence

Silver polished personality

Compassion comparable to Mother Teresa

Refined like sugar

“He never said a bad word about anyone.”

They left out that he was a son of a bitch

Taking hold of our earnings

Leaving us stranded

Why must we immortalize the immoral

He will live up to his laud

Posthumously

More alive when dead