Allow me to dig my own grave,

and sing my own sad song.

Wish myself a easy journey,

through the webs of my own tears.

For, I too will morn myself,

and try to carry on.

And as I cry upon my shoulder,

I’ll often wonder why,

I, myself, had to die.

But, I’ll let go.

I’ll keep telling myself;

that soon my yesterday will just be yesterday,

as my tomorrow will just be tomorrow.

But allow me to bow my head,

with glee and self pride.

For, I am proud to have died,

since I have left so much of myself behind.

By. Tiffany Bennett