Awake

Do not force your morbid rituals on me,
Laying me out in satin trimmings and stage makeup.
Preparing your loved ones in a fashion that crawls
out of horror stories.
Remembering with perverse detail the last moments,
by the lights of a strangers image.
Lining up and parading past like the lines of
patrons at a freak show.
This isn't me, this isn't the vibrance of my soul.
Do not mock the dead with archaic superstitions.
Give me one last chance to save my dignity,
honor me with smiles and poetry.