My grandma was supposed to turn 80 today,
Whether alive or death it's okay,
It's just sad that I never got the chance,
To say whether in or out my life,
Whether as sweet as sugar or cutting me like a knife,
She still ment much to me,
I was never able to made her understand,
She ment much to me,
She was just to sick,
And a child couldn't stick,
She never wanted to met me,
She once said she wished I wasn't born,
Cause I'm after my mom,
Her biggest torn,
That I was born,
And I survived,
That I was alive,
Ment that mom and dad were connected,
For the rest of their life's,
She thought of it as too sad,
She hurt us over and over,
She lost her husband and her lover,
And then she lost us,
She lost her own blood,
Because there was nothing we could,
Do to make her love us,
She didn't loved me,
She never did now I see,
It's so sad to me,
That I never name her as family,
But I think anyone is more like that,
Then her,
She was one of my own,
Not then and not when I grown,
She would've never been proud of me,
Not even if I won every price,
Not even if I could do everything she couldn't,
She was just to cold,
She just grew bitter and old...
I'm sorry I always failed,
In making you see,
You still ment much to me...

We only had limited time, I wished you had spend it on smiling with me,
Instead of lying about me... Sickness doesn't define you,
You do.

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