My daughter asked me to write something that matters to her.
As it happens, this also matters to me.
Another child lost from life.
Thirty-one years is a babe.
A face known to me by my children,
A voice, a smile, a song,
Talented, tormented and toppled,
Searching for far too long.
‘I’ve got the rest of my life to be a grown-up
And, for now, it’s ok to be young’,
Choices, drugs and pressure.
A life where the song has been sung