No Rose Colored Glasses

When People die regardless of how they actually felt about the person the dead become an automatic great person. I just want people to be honest, when I die just remember as I was not an idealized.

When I leave this earth

Don’t put the myth on me

Saying how saintly I was

Overlooking my flaws

Pretending that I was perfect

 

Don’t put the myth on me

Like they did to Grandma Clementine

She went from being an old pain in the a*s

To a divine being within flat line to the grave

 

Don’t put the myth on me

Remember me as I actually was

Celebrate my flaws

Learn from my errors

 

Read my poems

Listen to my music

Without rose colored glasses

 

 

 

Author's Note

Hope you enjoy