when i die there will be riots in the streets screams across the nation a flash flood of tears american flags serving as pyres
my blood will spill out in the form of flowers from a bullet wound painting the ground with roses attacking the police with thorns growing from my bound chest towards the sky.
i will cough up vines and smile with red on my lips and petals in my teeth so my curses will be laced with poison and my death will be excellence.