I once knew a 4 year old girl.
Her heart was truly made of gold.
She enlightened everyone's life.
Even her father's wife.
For this woman wasn't her birth mother.
The only true one to her was her brother.
Every since their mother died,
He would be there when someone hurt her pride.
Every since she was four.
She felt life was nothing more than a chore.
And when that chore was done,
You could go up by the sun.
Her mother had finished that chore.
And now that open door was a closed door.
When that little girl heard her mother was in heaven,
She cried for hours, in fact seven.
And now four years after,
That little girl had never shed anymore laughter.
She was only four years old when she lost her mother.
And now eight years old she only really has a brother.
