For ozzy,
Below the rusty dirt and below the wallowing flowers, there is a body whose face is distorted and legs are stiff, but do not worry because I am dead and Do not cry for dead things grow here. I carry the maggots that turn into the pesky flies you tend to hate. I cater the Beatles that take care of your garden. They're quite nice to me. I've prepared the Earth worms for battle against all things bad. They share incredible stories. So do not weep, for I am liberated. Remember that for dead things grow here.
BINABASA MO ANG
Liminal
PoetryPoems I've written. Some may be good and some may be awful!. Most of them are based off of growing up in the 2000s and maybe a few random ones thrown in there.
