I was placed on this Earth for a reason,
was I not?
I was given this heart of passion to love,
was I not?
Then who were you, my creator, my kin,
to turn my heart black,
to fill it with sin?

Such a child was I to never know grief,
to love and to laugh,
and to follow my feet.
But the sun always shines before a stormcloud may break,
Thunder then came for my spirit, my young soul to take.
I screamed, how I writhed! when the illusion had shattered.
All at once,
before ready,
with the ghost of a whimper,
you would take this child, Replace my shout with a whisper.

Tragedies, yes, we've all been befallen,
but what had I, in purity fell rotten
so far as you should think I'm better forgotten?
All of your children, your pieces, your players,
deserve to be loved, deserve answered prayers.