What Shall Be...

And what shall become of me...

I never wished for you to see.

My ends too grusome for one so young,

a pure, tender spirit...my sweetest dove.

I shan't polloute something so new...

Now kiss me softly, lovely dear;

for I have held your soul so near.

I death I won't let you be dismayed;

you're not to watch me fade away.



Parents sweet and lovers dear

are not to watch these fearful tears.

These fits of pain which often tear

is not a burden you're to bear.

This is my challange, this is my

strife; it is I who holds the knife.

Is my fate and crule demise,

a harsh reminder of how time

flies? A lesson that we ne'er

hold near all the ones we love

so dear?



And what shall become of me...

I never wished for you to see.

My ends too grusome for one so young,

a pure, tender spirit...my sweetest dove.

I shan't polloute something so new...

Now kiss me softly, lovely dear;

for I have held your soul so near.

I death I won't let you be dismayed;

you're not to watch me fade away.