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The True Essence Of Me

I was born with vital organs to survive as I live as an earthly loner  
What happens when I die as an organ donor  
My fate, essence, and creed will live in the body of someone elseís me  
My soft smoky gray colored eyes without my corneas  
Once implanted, will they see the beauty within the world to embrace in warmth, without deeds of hyperthermia  
 
My French Creole Butter Rum Skin  
Used as a graft for someoneís third degree burns to regenerate, the scared nerves to begin  
My heart, oh my beautiful heart, the core beat of my pulse  
The marathon runner of its stamina as winds chase me from getting lost  
Such a vital organ to love, forgive, find peace  
If itís instilled in another body will it still remember me  
 
My essence, the flow of blood as it pumps through the four chambers  
No more a vital organ than the heart, to ever be categorized as lifeís disclaimer  
My non-toxic kidneys  
Will they be given to someone name Cindy or Sidney  
Utilized for someoneís else body to filter the toxic need of their creed  
Will someone else benefit from breathing with my lungs  
Tried and true breathes of life from countless marathon runs  
 
A pair, but if needed from off a lengthily waiting list, then here is your donorís spare  
Remembrance of me as I once walked, ran, or soared by feet on celestial air  
Engulf the breeze with each new breath as the winds gently blows through your hair  
Waiting list recipients with the call of a beep  
Awake with anxiousness, feeling a hint of despair when they fall asleep  
 
Liver Failure without a last hope  
Fate bows to them daily as they mentally cope  
A liver has been given, someone can now walk a mile  
From a donorís source to now store glycogen, yours can now make its own bile  
My favorite essence as it rests inside of me  
Thoroughly cleans my blood stream to sustain a function to be  
 
Will you pamper my liver  
No alcohol to drown it as if itís in a river  
A glass of Moet it will accept occasionally, no drugs please to my vital organ you shall ever deliver  
My sweet pancreas converting my food regulating my glucose  
Will you care for it and not live footloose for the most  
Knowing it came from a sexy goose, who you now have her golden egg to brag and boast  
 
Vegetarian lifestyle be advised my organs are very spoiled  
Therefore, treat them, accordingly to function well as a car needs premium oil  
The true essence of me  
So many states, my core will stretch for eyes to see
Appreciated of its vital needs
Another life shall continue to live on  
Hopefully, my donated organs will sing, once given an acclamation of a unified song
Written by SweetKittyCat5
Published
Author's Note
The human voice is the organ of the soul.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
An erased post in 2018 by error
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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