Blow in the Wind

calves scrape against weeds and bark,
thorn bushes hold onto me for the keep,
but i push on,
let myself bleed.
i let them keep a chunk of me,
a piece of my flesh, my DNA,
and they can hold onto me
until i blow away in the breeze.
the particles that once made up
part of me
will take hold of the wind.
i'll be gone before you know it,
so try not to remember me until then.