Sight Of My Grave. Poem by Malevolent M.c

Sometimes i wish i knew the answers to all questions i have..
take comfort in the things you know, good or bad, because the things you don't can mess with you..


A little girl only 8, smile on her face, so beautiful, the kind of kid that lit up the whole place. With no problems in life, wants to go have so fun, decides to ride her bike.
4 miles a way,2 past lovers have a fight, the husband gets in his car to escape from his wife, so angry with tears, can't help but speed when he drives.
The little girl is peddling fast, giggling while she rides, only to look over her shoulders at some bright headlights, the husband takes hand of his face, and swerves to the right, only to late, the girl was killed instantly on sight.

Though that's just made up, i'm sure it's happened in life. The thought alone is strong enough to ignite the feeling of remorse in your system, i'm shaking while i'm speaking the words i have written.
The thought of death can be such a scary description, in my cognition i place my state inside a musician, outta compisition i explain my disposition in the reapers definition.. These lyrics are just my 2 cents, about a topic i present to everyone in the form of daily events. In a metaphorical sense, it's eloquant defense, i write with keyboards and pens, it's so intense the question

who decides who lives? Who decides who dies? Some say it's god, watching over us from all over the skies. Some say it's luck, i tell you now, somtimes it's f*cked. Makes me wonder, who is in the sky watching over us with such a careful eye? I've seen beautiful things but the ugly makes me cry.. Some say it's fate, but who is really destined to die at || only age 8? Head down with palms on my face when i suceed to put myself right in their place. My eyes water when i picture moms face, if she's standing over me at the sight of my grave.
Theres so many peices to a puzzle we don't know how to do,
There was a girl in my class, that i once knew she sat in front of me, class started at noon, and this part is true.
she made a bulletin titled 'it's so weird' i responded to the post just to make it clear, Her response brought fear, and a strange feeling wich made my life so sombre, she said a friend had past away last week, he is no longer, a denizen on the ground of this green earth, he was the first boy she ever liked, so what was it worth? What is the point, that we out last the people we once knew, it ended so fast. So who decides who lives, and who decides who's last? What did he die for? Nothing comes to my head incontrast Some people died for god, but that was the past....

A month ago, i was browsing through myspace, i was clicking on friends of friends, starting from my page, there was a girl who's page, i stumbled upon, she had poems up on her site and I became focused on || the lyrics she wrote, so sad to qoute.
I remember feeling a swell built up inside of my throat, it was about a boy she had loved, pictures of birds resembelant to doves, in the last line was the words 'forever above'.
I scrolled down the page to discover he was first of her top 8, so i clicked on his name that brought to his page. I began to read his comments and i just about cried, tons of tons of people telling him they miss him, because he had died. These people had written entire paragraphs to a person who would never read them, that sort of dedication lent itself to me who's never seen him. Or met him, i don't even remember his name, but forever the memory of the situation is burned on my brain.
This is my token to this boy, who remains unamed, he will live on forever through the lyrics i say.

So intense the question
who decides who lives? Who decides who dies? Some say it's god, watching over us from all over the skies. Some say it's luck, i tell you now, somtimes it's f*cked. Makes me wonder, who is in the sky watching over us with such a careful eye? I've seen beautiful things but the ugly makes me cry.. Some say it's fate, but who is really destined to die at || only age 8? Head down with palms on my face when i suceed to put myself right in their place. My eyes water when i picture moms face, if she's standing over me at the sight of my grave.