I was five.

What's the point in trying?

Everyone else is dying....

Before I leave and go,

just know....

This life I lived was the worst,

everyday I was ready to burst.

But know I'm free,

don't look in the firey pits of hell.

Instead, remember me waiting at the bottom of the stair well.

I was five, but you could barly tell.

Don't look up.

'Cause I spread my wings and flew.

Who knew?

Author Notes: please give me advise, I don't think I'm good at poems...

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