If you've ever had the chance to message me,
You'll realise at times I'll use the word ****.
Its nonsensical in a way but for me it meant more.
**** was the first word I can recall my late father saying.
**** was the word that brought laughter when I was sad.
**** still remains to have nostalgic value to me.
**** reminds me of the times when I pooped my pants,
And had people help me clean myself up.
In a way that **** and pants story reflects moments,
Moments in my life in which I became a horrid mess.
**** isn't just ****,
For when I die I don't want people being sad,
Or even uttering 'oh ****!'
I want them to say 'oh ****!',
For then and only then would I know that,
I truly lived.