"Is She Alive, or is She Dead?"
I think of her delicate form falling down,
Waiting to land on the cold, hard ground.
Or maybe, by some possible way,
With this world, she managed to stay.
I thought of the single bug fighter flying,
To where my mother would soon be lying.
"Is she alive, or is she dead?"
Those words haunt me alone in my bed.
I toss and turn, think I'm gonna' be sick.
I run to the bathroom, silently and quick.
If my father hears me, I'll have to lie when he asks if I'm all right.
He thinks it's been two years since her angel's flight.
I caused the Visser to become a ghost,
Along with my mother, her host.
Silent tears fall down my cheeks,
I try to sit up, but feel too weak.
I close my eyes and lay down my head,
And dream of my mom… "Is she alive, or is she dead?"