Awkward
The child that hides in the forest
Is crying
She is sickened
She is dying
You have poisoned her
Her heart, it barely beats
The poor dear
Is crying
Of course she knows
She is dying
The pull of death is just too strong
For her, life shall close early
The babe
Is crying
Too late to change her fate
She is dying
She slips, slips away
The question left is this
Am I lying?
Am I lying?
Copyright © Misty Hunter | Year Posted 2008
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