Used To Be Daughter

Tell her I am dead
So she need not suffer
Stay awake at night
color drawing of Mexican Folk Art
Reading the grief
I can’t help but write

I used to be her daughter
But sickness took its toll
Add time and age
and we all, we all,
we falter

I used to be like her.
There used to be laughter.

Please.
Tell her I am dead now.

She no longer need suffer.

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