I shouldn't still feel this way. Too much time has passed but my emotions do not lie.
People have said: "Forget her."
It's repeated time after time.
But she remains and I can't understand why.

I just can't seem to say: "Goodbye."

Wishing for a safety net.
So many scary memories she hopes she'll forget.
________

Daddy's always working - never around.
When mommy's here: Shh! She dare not make an unpermitted sound.

All too often she wakes with a start.
BANG! "AH!" Like a defibrillator shocking her heart.

Bedroom door rebounds off the wall.
Under the covers she tries to crawl.

I mustn't move. Have to keep still.
Please leave. Please leave. She prays that she will.

"Where's Mommys' girl? Hmm? My little star?"
The sheets are slowly withdrawn.
"There you are!"
That tone of voice makes her wish that she was never born.

True love and beauty can rarely be fully expressed.
This point I believe, must be stressed.

How can one put such purity into words? I shall try my very best.

The aching inside of my heart which she is responsible for.
I want it, more and more.

This pain, I need it. I never thought it'd feel this good to be this?...Sore.

I go back and forth.
My world's always turning, tilting. Its poles constantly changing positions South becomes North.

I never honestly know.
What to look for or where to go.
I wish for a sign to show.
They've said: "Find your path."
Well, I'm trying to but I'm sure that whichever one I choose to follow, I will encounter someones' wrath.

Two shots fired. Pop, pop Everything slows.
I can feel my heartbeat throughout my entire body, everywhere, right down to my toes.

Tell me, have you seen a bullet penetrate the skin? Rip through flesh?
I hope for your sake that your answer is no. One push and one release. Crimson liquid. Flowing fast So bright, so fresh.

Smell the iron. Its scent: rich and thick.
How would I describe it consistency? Slick.

Yourdestiny. Choose it.
Your** voice. Use it.
Your mind. Feel free to lose it.

Silence, as you stand in the doorway. 
Your lip trembles, scared that your voice may betray.
As you step toward me, it looks as if you’re a little off-balance. Your body starts to sway.

Once you’re beside me. Whatever it was that you were attempting to keep at bay. You can no longer, your frame simply gives way.
You’re stripped bare. Everything else falls away.

When you cry. It’s more like half of a growl and half sobbing-howl.

After what seems like a small infinity.
You ask quietly me.
“How long?”
Now, I know exactly what’s wrong.
I can’t answer in time, so you inquire again.
But this time you sound somewhere between the ages of five and ten.

It is my turn to struggle to speak.
My reply is so tiny, so meek.
“S-six weeks.”
You're in tears once more. Rivers slide down your cheeks.

“Oh Lindsay. Baby, stop.” I gently chastise.
Softly kissing you on the forehead. I wish to never again to see such deep sorrow swimming within your gorgeous blue eyes.