At my funeral

At my funeral there will be no sadness.
There will be no tears, no grief, no despair.
No tissues will be provided.

At my funeral nobody will wear black,
instead there will be a rainbow of technicoloured people.
There will be a party complete with skittles, and ice cream, and balloons.

At my funeral everyone will have vuvuzelas
and as my ashes are thrown into the air, and undoubtedly into some unfortunate souls eyes,
everybody will play a vuvuzela.

At my funeral the speeches will be heartfelt,
"She was a bitch, but she was my bitch."
Even though I will not hear it, I expect it to be said, and I expect there to be laughter.

At my funeral everyone will be happy,
and in the end when the party is over and only the half eaten donuts and stories remain,
all of my secrets will be told.

At my funeral I will reveal all of my blackest moments,
I will be dead.
Nobody will judge me then.