Dear Child:

Are you still the same girl
who chases after the tails
of fading comets
and begs them to stay?

Are you still the same girl
with roses made of poems
tucked away in her hair
and blood like ink on her hands?

Are you still the same girl
who fell to her knees
and cried, prayed

for so many strangers?

Are you still the same girl
who looked at the world
with her heart full of song,
and peace, and hope?

Tell me, child, are you still the same girl?

We were never made to last, my child;
we were meant to grow up.