here lies
the glorious poet
whisperer of words,
the girl who never spoke
the girl who always smiled.

she wasn't happy
but it didn't show
when she got up
she painted a clown like smile
over her frown for a while.

now she can't bow down
to herself in the mirror
for she is as alone in death
as she was in life
in love
the feeling she never thought she'd felt
when she did
she didn't want to believe in herself.

here lies the body
of the daughter unborn
rested in her mother's chest
a cheatful protest
"put me back in"
she exclaimed,
trying her hardest to proclaim
her undying love for dying.

melancholic
was she
her day-to-day
feeling grey
the colour of her eyes
matched her feeling well.

she wasn't feeling well
never felt too swell
but that's alright
she no longer fights
her own hell.

and to those who join us now
watching her body loud and proud
let it be known
she is now at home
in a coffin
on the dirt of the ground
she loved far too much.

here she lies.
where she cried.
the girl with poems
written in the blue of her eyes.