The news I heard was fast.

You looked like a doll.


You lay there in white,

A cross wrapped in your hand.


You do not look real.

You look like a doll.


I wait to see your chest move,

As you take in air.


But there is nothing.

Your skin no longer glows like it use to.


Coverd in artifical coloring.

Who did this to you?


You were only twenty-three.

So I say good-bye to you.

But you didn't say good-bye to me.

This poem is about: 
My family


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