That little girl I used to be,
With an easy laugh and smile,
Her heart did not know heartbreak,
Tears did not dim her eyes,
Her skin was tan and freckled,
Her hair was bleached by the sun,
And she never did know a stranger,
And was frightened by no one.

She was reckless, brave, and witty,
With a sharp mind and a sharper tongue,
She always stayed up too late reading,
She couldn't leave a book till it was done,
She was quick to anger but quick to forgiving,
With a heart so full of love,
She was always far too giving,
And never thought to put herself before anyone,

Who killed her?

Who put the last straw on the back,
Of the camel that cast her aside?
Who caused that final tear,
To stain her soul with salty pride?
Who was the one who slit her throat,
And left her in a ditch to die?
Who killed the little girl,
Who's name used to be mine?