Sometimes I scream,
And imagine the world,
Explodes in time,
With the expulsion of my voice.
Shearing through the ground,
Ripping trees from the soil,
And splitting mountains,
Until all that is left is powdered remains.

Then I lay splayed out onto my destruction,
And see only the sky
Falling into darkness.
And I lay there so long,
That the world repairs around me.

The roots of new trees,
Start to grow over me,
Chaining me to the earth.
And the grasses, new, raise over my head,
And tangles with my hair.
The insects start to snack,
So that butterflies are now,
Filled with my remains.

The new beauty fed,
By my rotting destruction.
I hope this is what,
You wanted.