// (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});
Before Me.

Before Me.

I felt my life
I felt my thoughts
I could breathe
I could see
The future in front of me

Would I have children?
A budding career?
Would I make plenty of friends?
Be seen as the next pioneer?

An intense light
Is the last thing
I remember
Now in Heaven, I wonder

Why did I die
Seven months before
I was ready
To be born?

Leave a Reply