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by jackson small

@smalljac44 on instagram

I do not want to be mourned

when I am gone from this life,

on to the next, with my feet in the

Ether and the sand, do not grieve, for I will not obey.

I will see every hue, from 

this plane thereafter, decorate 

my bruises of bereft in

glory and splendor, but I will wish 

you were here.

do not lament I, who has 

sacrificed for no larger a 

purpose than themself

flayed by a rationalizing world, 

a planet reaching the zenith 

from which it will never revive.

do not sorrow over I, who was not 

meant for this Earth, and every nail struck 

to the perilous hull of this ark, called by we 

to conduct our security, and

let us drink our horrid relief

so he may tell us we merely

hold our cup wrong.

do not bemoan I, who is 

liberated, unyoked of

servitude to the false deity within.

heart, pulse as a fiend, tongue, speak what

language you heed and I will attend,

fingernails, grow if you must!

I am denounced by the disingenuous 

human circumstance, and my body has 

gone cold, so take my 

ribs, but leave the rest for the 

field mice and the bobcats.

do not mourn I, who is finally home.

a note from the artist-

"when i was writing this poem, i was experiencing a lot and just overall trying to justify my existence in the world that felt like it never really had a place for me. this poem details death, and the desire to leave this planet to find acceptance within oneself."

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