Makayla
Once we heard of cancer
Something rare; it was curse
Things have changed now a day
My dear Makayla
Open are the pages, I don't care
A hanging particle in the air
I am lost; I am lost, I am lost
Eleven, you were girl
That's your max; and no more
And
No more
And
No more
And
No more
Leukemia, you are dead.
You have died of cancer
"No chemo, " you cried and shouted.
I praise your pride.
I bow to, what you said.
Go sleep; deep in peace.
Your God, toys, is waiting.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem