The last of the letters

November 10, 2012
In the midst of a winded day
A clouded and dreary winter morning
Sat a child in mourning
No older than eight
Longing for the days before her yearnings
When everything seemed so safe
Seemed so innocent

She was forced to grow up too quickly
For she witnessed heart-wrenching sights
Things so saddening
She never spoke of these frights
They brought memories she wished to forget

The memories still haunted her
Dreams so sad and grim
Nothing seemed to mask her pains
Living in a mind gone insane
Would the memories leave her with time?

She often asked herself that
But he knew better
So there she sat
With the last of her mother's letter

"Although my time left is not long,
I hope that one day you will see
That your house will always be filled with my song.
And that one day you'll see me again."

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