poems from a lonely girl

Until It Was Too Late Pt 2

I could already imagine my funeral

Exactly the opposite of what i would've wanted it to be

Full of people weeping instead of people laughing

Full of people praying instead of people eating

Full of sad classical music instead of  the upbeat tunes i liked

Full of what if's and if only's instead of accepting my death

Don't they understand

That my memories will still live on?

Don't they understand

That though i'm dead, i'll never be truly gone?