#hostileapple

[hostileapple-blog]

[hostileapple-blog]

weird flex but ok

[hostileapple-blog]

so that poem thing. uh. could you write one about unclaimed bodies/the graves of the unknown?

She is so much more than a Jane Doe.

Constant and colorful, much like a rainbow.

In her dream life, she owns a small town cafe,

She isn't worried about her student loans, she knows they will be paid back someday.

She knows every customer and cares for them too,

And she hangs up the art that all the children drew.

Jane Doe dreamt of a kinder world than this,

One of chocolate icecream, and families youd never have to miss.

One of truelove and homes for all the homeless.

One of inside jokes and all the pizzas are boneless.

She hoped to live out her final days, drunk and in love.

But her life was ended short, on authority of above.

With no one to put flowers on her grave,

Her family is confused, and never given the closure that they crave.

But none of that matters to Jane Doe now,

Because she lives on in the trees, and in the raise of an eyebrow.

She lives on in the rain, and every sloppy first kiss,

Do not cry for Jane Doe, she does not want to be missed.