Marcel Wilken - Gone

To the wicked that stole from me all that once was pure and true.
To life that no longer exist, but clutched in time, a pure and beutiful grace.
Place this soul of mine in a deep anwakend grave, to let her fly free and play amongst the stars,
To begin life and not as it endid in such a six day year.
Ripped away from life's womb, a tragic story to be told too the next who bears my name.
Life no longer plays the same, but creeps along, only to leave me and those to blame.
A hatred soul I now have, but keeping to myself thoughts wich may not materialize.
To abide by society's law, a soul shatterd never to rest.
Living out its life never to be free again.
Life without peace but with a resting place.

In memory of Chanelle my daughter

Marcel Wilken

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gone-290/