"We all meet here today..."
No this doesn't feel right,
I shouldn't have to write this for her.
"For the passing of a beautiful girl,"
Why did she have to go,
Couldn't she see her future,
So bright and so light,
"She was an artist, a singer, a writer,"
She had so much going for her,
And she had barely just begun.
"An inspiration, one that was perfectly imperfect,"
Yes, these words flow better now,
But I still feel bad,
I still feel sad,
"No girl could sum up to my imperfect niece,"
YOU ARE READING
The Life of Another Death
PoesíaHer pain brought her death, Her death brought their pain, Their pain gave you this story.
