The Disease

Iona Walker. Poet Warrior. 

The Disease 

 

She was not that big but not that small

With sometimes no color at all

It looks as if someone came to take her place

put it the place the wrong way

She use to be amazing

But  now she is not

And she has no smile not even agrin

It wasn’t her fault that the disease came on

She was happy and now look at her

Nothing at all

She was the happiest kid on earth

Until storm came

She looked like a dull tree

And no color at all not even a gray

Her  smile was as big as a whale

Until she got knocked over and fell

Many people wanted to be her

Than they forgot about her

It wasn’t her fault she got she got the disease

This poem makes me...
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