Lynch mob to the front please

I let the hero in me die
and lived long enough
to see the villain
become me
pulling spirits out of bodies
like teeth
with steel metal tools
twisting
and twisting
trapped in a wooden box
clawing to get out
but i asked to be
cremated
cut the white lily flowers
throw them in the
rushing wet creek bed
clear water
picnic at the cemetery
pine trees towering
stand on a picture perfect mountaintop
bamboo rising at the bottom
surrounded by city streets
i use to run on as a kid
and other dead bodies
dreary
damp
the ground makes a squishy noise
when i walk
i still hope to be that eccentric
happy family member
for a few choice Chickadee's
change the bed sheets
chopping wood
has left my hands callused
from the fresh kill
will my niece know who i am
for i've not cast away my kin
but trapped in a widows web
waiting for the poison
to pierce the skin
melting my organs
origami
or was it a choice
a choice choose by blood
spill lies
on a lily pad
waiting for the frog to hop
and hop it did
hold me down as i hate the living
and the likes of what i have become
monsters in the making of a madhouse built for two