Flowers remind me of death
My father clutching a pathetic
handful of convenience
store bouquet flowers
Jack and desperation in
his voice
begging my mother-
the woman he beat and
walked out on to
raise three traumatized children
alone-
to take him back
Alcohol convincing him
that she was the true love of
his life
His sun bronzed hands
grasping at hope long
since murdered
brought flowers to the funeral
of their relationship

Flowers remind me of death
Your smile and laugh
silenced too soon
Your whole amazing being
shoved into a box
Entombed six feet below
my world’s surface
Overly sweet petals
prettily masking the
decay in my heart
caused by losing you

Flowers in all their beauty
remind me of death

Life to me is a game. The day your parents give birth to you, your attributes, looks, social status are given. As you get older, you realize that each and everything matters to you. Money, education, relationships, your emotional well-being. So you try your best to gain recognition and appreciation. Basically like those game achievements. Each choice leads to a certain consequence. It’s up to you to decide on creating a better character or remain the same. In the end, the game (our existence) will come to it’s final chapter. It will be passed on to many generations. Hopefully the existing files (your kids, if you plan on making them) will keep you not only in their minds, but in their hard drives (hearts). If there is an afterlife, I hope we will rest in peace and see each other there.