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Poetry: Death
Death came calling; too soon for this girl,
Only 17, already lost to this world.
Only 17, just facing this world.
The fun she was having; the friends that were hers,
The smile on her face, now only a blur. She met up with bad, bad drugs,
They overtook her.
Out just for fun, not having the knowledge,
The drugs overwhelmed her, could someone have told her?
Let's please not desert her,
Let her memory serve her.Can you hear me?
Let's please not desert her.
She wasn't a bad girl,
It was the drugs that took her in a whirl.
Can you hear me? Let her memory serve her.
Her mother and father, now only have tears,
Where before they did have her,
Their seventeen-year-old daughter.
Let's please not desert her.
Learn more about this author, Betty Jo Petty.
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