I've seen her tormented,
Devoured in pain,
strangled in a wreath,
Dying of the strain.
I've seen her crave,
For yesterday,
For that one slip of paper,
Brought us a mocking jay.
I've seen her fight,
Like never before,
A fire in her eyes,
burning to her core.
The last thing I've seen,
Her colorless face,
When the fire consumed me,
And my ashes, replaced.
And still I see,
As I look down from the light,
She is doing well.
She will be alright.
And I see so much change.
Through life, as it goes,
But she hasn't forgot,
I am her little Primrose.
