Premature death

(A poem I wrote at age 13.)

Tear stained cheeks
After every cry and plea
Simply for a home or a place to call my retreat

If only I could turn back time
All these painful memories just a far away chime
Sadly, we cannot escape the present
We can only dwell on the past and dread the future
If only death could come just a tad bit sooner

I know what you’re thinking
I’m just a little girl with the idea of life all wrong
but you do not know what I know
Nor have you seen what I have seen
and for that you are truly lucky

I am merely thirteen and wishing to be lovely
With death on my mind and a bruised spine
this is a life no one would should ever try to find

Comments

  1. Basar El BeyMarch 24, 2020 at 5:27 PM

    Peace chingona💓... The dead see you cry when the living does not. The dead hear how you speak of them. God is Not God. Dead people are. My dead friends confuse my eneimes.

    ReplyDelete

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