I will not be another rose
picked for my beauty
Then left to die.

No i will be a spectacular wildflower,
The kind you would never bring to a wedding,
Difficult to find,
impossible to forget.

Or i will set myself on fire,
And burn,
And pray to become  ash,
The kind that float
like fresh snow
So that i can join the soil,
And other wildflowers can
grow through me.
The ones no one will pick
Or put in a vase.
So that you could not display them at my funeral