Angel Girl,
what are you doing up here?
You should be playing
running
laughing
smiling,
glory of countless days
reflected in your eyes.
What happened, sweetheart?
Did your heart
your bravery
fool you so?
I can heal your hands
hold your soul
and gather the pieces
of chattered dreams.
But I can not heal your pain
for you can not go back,
Child.
The mirror is one way.
Only ten years old, never to see eleven. Last week, Joanna Ramos from Long Beach, California, had an appointment with Death. He was not dressed in black, Death, nor carrying a scythe. No, Death was dressed as a girl. A girl, the same age as Joanna.
They were rivals, these youngsters, fancying one and the same boy. And they decided to fight over him. Within one minute it was over. The fight. And Joanna’s life. A blood clot blocked her future.
I am devastated.