When I lay in my grave,
Eyes flattened out.
I wish to be a beautiful bunch,
Of Daisys when sprout.
As I lay very still,
Completely motionless,
I hope to grow into a beautiful
Garden of Daisy's to caress.
As my muscle leaves my bones,
I'll be alone again.
But I hope when my bones later sprout.
Into a beautiful orchard, shining in rain.
I'll get to see the sun again.
If I could only come out.










