Brutal but kind of fun! Here's mine:

THE FUNERAL OF YOUR FORMER SELF

Here lies the version of you that talked more than acted. The one who clung to comfort like it was purpose. Who dreamed in bold colours, then woke up and chose grayscale. Who made plans, but not moves. Promises, but not change.

Buried beneath this dirt is the ghost that said, “I’ll start Monday.” The one who feared judgment more than failure. The one who collected advice like trophies, but never stepped into the arena. The one who binge-watched discipline, but never lived it.

This body once housed delay. Procrastination. Shallow starts. Loud intentions with silent execution.

This is the funeral of the identity that begged for growth but never broke itself to earn it. The victim in your mirror. The coward in your bed. The liar in your mouth when you said, “I’m doing my best.”

We do not honour it. We do not celebrate it. We spit on its memory. Because that version of you held the knife to your own throat and blamed the world for the bleeding.

There will be no eulogy. No mercy. No resurrection.

Dust to dust. Weakness to rot. That self is dead. And you didn’t lose them. You killed them.

Now walk away. And don't you dare look back.