I did not kill her, but she died.
At times peacefully, at times fighting, petrified.
I see them, and they see me.
I am not who they knew, how could I be?
Years ago I was different, same as yesterday.
Thoughts and emotions, each cell shifts everyday.
No, I did not kill her, but compost she did become.
Her death was a gift, flying, flowing, to freedom.
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