: About Me

I was presumed dead... cold to the touch and pale... loved by some but also hated by many, Those who came to see me through parties for the event, hovering balloons were plenty; Roses were scarce. More came to laugh than to grieve, they rejoiced and exchanged smirks Across my coffin. I could not open my eyes, they were bolted shut but I could feel the stares, Penetrating my embalmed flesh like the worms that prepared themselves to feast up on it. I could feel the hot hatred in peoples eyes scanning over my face, pause... then sat upon it. My lungs exhaled a horrifying scream from the burn ...