It's gets hard
to believe in something
bigger than oneself
when someone gets more
much more
than they deserve.

She's nine.
She's a gift from God.
Pretty blonde locks
that only drop as far as her shoulders
because once, in the first grade
she decided that she was her own
personal hairdresser and nipped
it down to the bare essentials.
And I wasn't mad about it.
She has
Blue eyes that she believes
are sitting on the fence
of too blue and not blue enough.

I couldn't dislike it.
Even if I wanted to.

She has glasses that she needs to wear
because her eyes were made for beauty
and not function,
but I don't have the heart
to make her
wear something she doesn't like.
Even though.

Sometimes she'll sit in her room
crying and throwing things
for hours and being the good father I am,
I'll knock on the door.
"Yes?"
"Ma'am, may I come in?"
"No, Daddy I'm mad at you!"
"And why is that?"
"Because mommy said It's your fault
I'm not as tall as Jenny!"

Who decides what person gets what?
Who in hell or heaven, has that job?
I know I may be only a man,
but sir, you need more work.
In Jesus's name I pray,
because sometimes,
I believe things don't happen
for just or plausible reasons.
They happen because
someone down the line made a mistake.
Someone managed to piss the big
Man upstairs off so badly that now,
you and someone you love has to pay
for it.

It was a Wednesday.
I remember that much.
Lia came home from work
early,
and we got a call from the school.
"Sir, your daughter is sick,
can you come and get her?"
Of course I was there in a heartbeat
only to find that she was fine.
Maybe a bug I told myself.
We'll send her to school tomorrow.
"Are you sure?"
Of course I said. It's just a little thing.
And there, I made another mistake...
I could've taken you somewhere then.
I could've...
Done something...
Another reason I think its all my fault.
I'm sorry...
I really am.

Thursday
She woke up
after waking up
and waking up.
Sickness wasn't sickness
that day.
Sickness had become
life.
I dont know if one hour
passed by that she wasn't relieving
her insides or screaming about the
windows to her soul being foggy.
But again, I made a mistake,
my memory failed me.
I could almost remember being
this sick when I was young.
I Was Wrong.

Friday (The Day of Realization)
After thursday
I figured all was better.
Her blue eyes smiled at me
yet, she still said she couldn't
see right out of the left.
I was so tired of seeing
something so pretty cry.
So, we slept, or rather
she slept while I waited.
12 hours went by and her
dinner was seeming to stay down.
10:17 a.m.
She was sleeping still,
restlessly,
but still sleeping.
I could hear her stomach speaking to
me about its enflamed insides.
And she sat up.
With a smile I asked how she was doing.
With wide eyes...
My little girl again cried out
for help from me and
emptied what little food she had
left. What she began to cough up
after all that was gone resembled blood.
I'm so sorry Ally...
I'm so sorry.