Who In Heaven Gave the Order
She was born on time
On a bright warm summers day
Both perfect in every conceivable way
We had been tipped off she would be she and not he
So we had prepared in pink entirely
Her life stretched before her
Like a highway to the stars
Endless possibilities represented by
Countless passing cars
The news we got was devastating
Tore us apart, crushed us to our very souls
Those words each one a bullet
Left us full of bullet holes
Who in heaven gave the order
That our perfect child must die
I look into your empty playroom
Through a tear-drop in my eye
Copyright © Steven Mitchell | Year Posted 2013
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