A life, it was lived and then taken by its owner, no one knows but it's death had been slow and painful,
"why didn't you tell me", I always want to ask.
She died and died.
In fact she lived while dying.
I sit at the grave, I can't even mourn because I've been doing it for a while.
She left me, to face the world alone, why couldn't she tell me so I would take some of her burdens