Hey, just another poem about Twilight. Idk if I'll make it into a story, you guys have to review and tell me what you want me to do. So plz plz plz review!
This poem is about Bella's mom dying in child birth and from the Spanish influenza, it will probably be a story, and it will probably be set when Edward was still human. (Uhh, I forgot when that was :P. Don't kill me, just tell me in a review por favor =D)
Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.
Her Death, My Life
Light crashes onto a window sill.
Beside that
on a bed,
a girl lies
ill.
With shallow breaths,
she knows she's dying,
and she spends no time,
on useless crying.
She grabs her family,
in weak,
painful hugs.
It's not their fault they couldn't save her,
she died while giving birth,
at the end of her labor.
She's gone
we know,
but now it's time,
to let go.
Because that's what she would have wanted,
what would have given her bliss.
She was my mother,
brave and strong and true,
she died to give birth to me,
and also from
the flu.
But we must carry on,
that's what she would do,
because she was a Swan.
Brave,
and
strong,
and
true.
Yeah, that's it. I might make it into a story, I might not. I probably will though, but I need ideas and feedback.
So review review review!
Pwease? *puppy dawg eyes*
Love,
Locketful o' Heartache
