If I die young

I want a

love song played

at my funeral.

I don't want

a priest praying,

I want the

sun shining,

I want the

breeze blowing

and my family

crying.

I want this day

to be sad

so that others

won't be.

I want these letters

sprawled across

my feet,

and roses

just blooming

with mildew on

their petals.

I want the

stray cat I

put out food for

to trample along

by for one last

goodbye,

and I want my heart

to live on

and my good deeds

along with it.

Just, please

don't forget me. . .