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Not My Daughter

Her skin is blue
And paper thin.
She's now a size two,
Body made for a seven.

Her face is hollow,
Lacking joy.
No bite would she swallow,
And her ribs, oh boy!

I can see every rib.
This isn't my baby,
That laid in her magenta crib!

My daughter was a beautiful one,
She was healthy and tall;
To me she was the moon and sun,
Loved going to the mall.

She was vibrant and strong,
Modest and kind.
Her hair stretched long,
Such a creative mind!

She talked to me,
Kept no secrets,
No depression to see,
None to witness.

The girl that laid on her bed
For the past two years,
That laid her head,
And cried those tears,
She wasn't my daughter;
She was an imposter.
Died with her father,
Long ago, I lost her.

My husband died;
He had cancer.
The doctors tried and tried.
Apparently death was the answer.

She died that day.
Her carcass is this girl.
She thought she had to pay,
Cut the skin of my precious pearl.

So I shouldn't cry,
Shouldn't weep.
She has already died,
But I can't sleep!

Not since I saw that one,
Collapsed in the sand, 
Lay with the gun
Still in her hand.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

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Date: 8/10/2015 11:03:00 PM
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Date: 8/7/2015 2:22:00 PM
Such a powerful poem.
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Date: 8/7/2015 12:28:00 PM
sad stories such as this....deliver me to the midst....of the Power Of His Word....we Need You Lord, this pain is too absurd....great write....;)
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