My Death Poem by fanniesson -

If you should find me dead
I'm not with the lord, so.
Don't comfort yourself
in thinking so, or that.

I'm finally at peace, playing checkers
with my old man and the grandfather
I never knew.
A man that died years before my birth.
Nor I'm I waiting for my mother
to make a pan of her lasagna.
'That lady knew how to make lasagna',
oh.

And I'm not in Hell where
everyone warned me I would be going.
The devil sticking his trident up my rectum,
just cause he could.

Not the case.

I'm just dead there on the floor, lifeless
like a side of beef that fell off the hook
placed on, on a conveyor belt in a
meatpacking plant.
Void of ‘spirit and a soul'
‘something I've said more than
a few times.
'I doubt any of us have to begin with', but.

Do call who you must call, and don't forget
the church up the street from my house,
get a priest here, to do his mumbo jumbo on me,
just incase
I was wrong about the whole damn thing.