Everyone wants to die a poetic death, but ain’t nobody willing to live a poetic life. She says she wants to die gracefully leaving people longing for her presence once again but how she lives her life is anything but. She whores about or so they have labelled her. She’s spent too much time thinking about the legacy she wants to leave behind forgetting that the writers of that very legacy wrote her death sentence. The human demeanor is a treacherous one. Beneath the mask we wear a dark and twisted labyrinth of lies. They said she was a whore while she was still breathing. But she hopes she will be remembered as something more angelic perhaps, when she’s dead. So as she takes her last breath she is in a painful state of realization that she was ridiculous to expect that of them. It was who she would always be remembered as.
“They wanna remember you by your tragedy,
but that’s not how you imagined infinity.”
So now she walks away with the sad realization that they were always going to remember her by her tragedy although that’s not how she remembered infinity.