When My Gardian Angel Died & Went to Live With God.

My tears are made of heavy steal. Burned and bent to hurt, as they fall. Jagged but smooth, when they fall down my 13 year old cheeks. Do you see me crying, as my eyes fill with solid liquid? Do you hear the agoney spilling out my mouth as you die? Or are you already carrieing on a conversation with God? Just left with out a final good-bye? Did you have a chance? To say or even think a fare well? I never told you thoughs words. Good-bye. Even when your make-uped body lay in a pink lined cascet with painted white wood decored with detailed pink roses on the front and sides, I could not say good- bye. The worlds would not form. Nor was I able to come to close to your lifelsess, soul-less body. You looked close to you, but you were not you. I just could not let thoughs last two words that would prove what my fogged mind was peiceing together. No, no one can say good- bye to their little sister...