Lost
She was young but her heart was old
She floats through the night,
Straight and true, like the shaft
Of an unstrung bow.
Though her burden is heavy,
She never complains but rolls on.
Though her life may be short,
She will travel far and longer
Than most things that will cross her path.
In her five short years of life,
She carried the burdens of the world
Now she may rest.
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