Four Needles under Plentiful Leaves

You have no name.

I once had! I was embalmed, adorned, readied for the journey.

So proud. There was jubilation! My name was sung, loud and clear.

Did they know? That I didn't quite leave, didn't quite stay?

Should I be ashamed? That I linger here, where my memories are kept?

Should I be ashamed that I now envy your flesh prison?