Funeral Procession on the Seashore

I wish to be taken to the seas,
when my hearing is past dull,
and when seeing things is no longer done
by eyes that once decided what I'll become. 
I wish to be taken to the seas, 
from my home, from this town
from everything in which I put my belief,
from everything I call my own.
A stream flowed through the town,
it led to nowhere and was a chore to get around.
That stream oblivious to it all, 
would usher me to the seas when no one is around, 
when no one lends an arm.
Silently like a waste tin can of sorts 
I would float downstream 
leeching chemical wastes in the water, my very escort.
Tainted in wastes the water met the sea. 
The river was of one, the sea was full of griefs.
The funeral wasn't as I planned, in a blink I was tossed onto the sand.
Conveniently imaged over a tree someone had to decapitate.
Then was lit the fire and so vanished the final remains of my sight.
A dark oblivion took its place, against the promised peaceful plight.
Then I closed the eyes I never knew I even had, 
as everything burned and everything got vague and everything I possessed, 
and called my own escaped my hand.