My name is Hayley and I am sixteen,
But I think I am no longer a teen.
Textbooks – forgotten, just a wand in my hand.
And a minute ago I lost a friend.
She took a death strike meant for me;
Now she's dead, like I'm going to be.
I promised my brother to come home in July,
He hoped I would teach him how to fly.
My Mum used to tell me heroes were brave,
But she didn't say they ended up in a grave.
I'd do that again, I did what was right;
Nobody can be too young to fight.
We were standing there facing the death,
Scared, determined, taking the last breath.
And now I'm lying here on the stone floor,
Longing to see my friend's face once more.
A woman on the portrait is crying for me…
No, don't be sad! Oh, please, don't be!
I see a green flash, some boy falls near.
I doubt he had time to feel fear.
Dying alone – I didn't want to leave like this…
It seems my fingertips are beginning to freeze…
Her name was Hayley and she was sixteen,
And now she will forever remain a teen.