Die, I, Pretty. Poem by Kyle Shield Laster

Find my body in a state-
That mesmerizes eyes.
Souls come forth to view it-
As it not so quickly dies.

Suffer skin and bone of mine.
The people they will please.
As I draw my dying breath-
I won't, for I'm a tease.

They'll shield me from the scorching heat;
My Mississippi burning.
Die I'll not in sweaty Summer;
Winter's what I'm yearning.

The snow will avalanche my form.
Then prances Spring so flitty.
Discover- iced: my cold remains.
Forever, die, I, pretty.