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Reincarnation by TheStoyTeller, literature
Literature
Reincarnation
I close my eyes
as flowers push up
from my throat,
out of my mouth
like soft bile.
Death is a fisherman,
and he'll cast his line out
fishing for rhododendron
and his hook will pierce my petals,
and he will pluck me right up
from my roots
and string me through
the scape of blue skies,
past the cotton of clouds
and poppy seeds,
shattering the fourth wall,
and shifting passed the spike of stars
until I end up there,
under the crimson dirt
of Mars.
waiting to be born again.
