Poor Girl

The poor child saw it coming,

As the dawn of death came humming. 

Someone had to pay.

The time of dawn is spent,

And when Death came to collect,

The young girl payed the price.

The young get no say
As the old say day by day,

"Experience comes with age."

The dawn did not forget

That this child let 

Her book be but a page.

So when rent was due once more

The child was 'blessed' with the chore

Of choosing who would go.

But said child had a heart,

And after her depart

Still said no.

Not surprised by her kindness,

The Mighty, without blindness,

Gave her eternal peace instead.

Having done her part,

With no ache in heart

She could finally rest.

Reviews

[Alicia Schroeder]

Great peice.

[Adrien Hupp]

i love how it flows and the story it tells. it's a great poem:D