Is there a reason for me to hurt?
Is there a reason to be put in the dirt?
To turn to ash , The color of gray.
To be put in the ground .
Beneath the layers of clay.
Only a memory, A thought in one's mind.
Was happiness here so hard to find ?
A picture in a book. Along with many others.
Beside me is my mother, Father, sisters and brothers.
Was there a purpose ? A reason to spend time on this earth ?
The years here were good. And put to good use.
Quite a few were happy. Some had to be sad.
Some were with love . Some mad me mad.
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Bren