Sometimes I wonder if anyone will show up,
I don’t want to play melancholic melodies,
I would rather have Blink182 over the stereos,
And I want orchids, not lilies.
I imagine only ten people at most will come,
But I’m all right with that,
No one should make a fiasco out of my disappearance.
I want cross eyed pictures of me propped up,
Not the ones of me smiling,
I want to be wearing sweatpants in my cardboard coffin,
Not my best little black dress.
After the wake, I want to be cremated,
And have my ashes spread along the duck pond,
So I can haunt its occupants for eternity,
And they will sniff the sweet aroma of bacon.
And overhear my mousy sneeze in the background.
I want everything I have ever owned to either be donated,
Or be auctioned off to my friends and family,
And I will allow my organs to be donated,
To be used for the magnificence of science.
I promise that when I die,
I won’t be letting anyone down,
And I want no tears to be shed,
They should be celebrating my release.