Funeral for the Future

Confession: I don't feel well,
terrified of the dreams
in which I am guilty
of every single thing.

Dearest, may I confide in you?
I hate this world I see.
I want something so much better,
something more for you and me.

But daisies don't make the world go round,
and money's an object here.
I'm scared I can't afford to be
good enough for you, my dear.

Dearly beloved,
you are gathered here today
to remember once upon a times
when rainbows weren't black, white, and/or grey.