If I am to die, tell the world a lie on my last day.
Tell them I was gentle, good.
Tell the world that I cared, that I loved without conditions.
Tell the world that I always spoke my mind, that I was fair and kind.
Tell the world I believed in goodness, that I had hope for all the lost causes.
Tell the world I was bright, like a falling star that crashes down from the Heavens.
If I am to die, do not tell the world the truth about me.
Do not speak of my bitterness.
The hatred wrapped under my skin, that put me in an early grave.
Do not speak of the three am desperation when I wanted the world to end.
Do not speak of the broken hearts, broken bones, broken dreams.
Do not speak of all the blood spilled, time lost on stupid petty pointless things.
Do not speak of how I raged and raged and wore myself thin over people that never cared.
If I am to die at my own hand,
Tell the world that I was always hopeful.
Tell the world a lie, so I may be beautiful in death, even if I was not in life.
Tell the world that I will be missed, even if the world is so loud it will not notice one more quiet voice slip away.
Tell the world that someone loved me.
Do not tell the world that I died because the world did not care.
If I am to die, do not write the truth on my headstone, for it is such an ugly thing.