I wrote the story

that you read

about a little girl

that held the stars in her eyes

dreams in her heart

and the sun upon her lips

the story about how she died

you read it and you cried

you wondered how

I could write something

so cruel and so sad

you judged me

you looked at me through different eyes

not ones of innocence and happiness

how could I be so cruel

but what you didn't realize

was that little girl

was me

and I died

because of you