i hear life at the cemetery and i can't help but wonder if mine will ever be the same.
i get jealous of the bugs at the cemetery.
they're still alive.
they aren't pests here. they are who i envy.
the tears that fall from my cheek onto the blade of grass and down to the soil represent life, emotion, and love.
i will cherish each breath until we meet again.
vivenorie.
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