When Corpses Fly (poem book #6)

When corpses fly

When my flesh rots away
Will my bones be light enough to fly?
Will fate allow me to ascend to better things?
Or will they throw me in a coffin just like the rest of the people who dared to pass.
It's not our fault.
We are put in this world with a story.
And the universe gets mad at us for defying it.
If to breathe was a plague, would it be more worth it to hold it fearing infecting other people, and being loved for the few seconds you were alive...
Or would you want to breathe freely despite everyone glaring at you for doing so.
All we really are is organic machines designed to constantly and constantly improve society rather than enjoy the plague we were blessed with.
We've been taught to hate it.
Living.
And I hate to fall victim to that.
Will I ever escape the purgatory of what other people consider my destiny?
"Well...
When corpses fly"