Lived Her Life

There was a pretty teenage girl,
Who loved to dance and whirl and twirl.
Her hair was black, her eyes were brown,
She laughed and teased without a frown.

Stacking the sideboard with a dirty cup,
The phone rings once, the mum picks up.
A sombre voice spoke up and said,
"'Scuse me ma'am, your daughter's dead."

"Walking home from school today,
Somewhere down St. Stephen's Way.
A guy was there, not really sane;
He put a bullet through her brain."

So now it's time to say goodbye,
To walk away and never cry.
Her grave is deep, the message short,
'She lived her life as she thought she ought.'