30 hours. That's how long I had to live. The doctors had warned me that this día would come about 3 years ago. But I didn't believe them. They've dicho it before, several times in the last 3 months, and yet it never did happen. But this time, everything was real. Reality had fianlly hit me. I was going to die. That was it. That was the last time I would ever doubt myself again. People surrounded the outside of my hospital room. But no, not my dad. He could care less. I'm only 17, geez Dad. The least tu could have done was call me o send me an correo electrónico o something. But I didn't know until last week. He had disapeared. The last someone ever saw of him, he was leaving Los Angeles, on a plane to Chile. Didn't make any sense. My parents had gotten divorced when I was 12, right about when I got sick. The disease then spread rapidly throughout my body, making me feel weaker and weaker with each step of the way. I have a disease called Ebola, a highly deadly disease. It can't be cured. I didn't know I had it. But why me? I'm just a simple girl from Idaho, who lives on a potato farm, and practically live off potatoes. We don't grow them anymore, because my dad was the farmer, and, as tu all know, he left. He was our last hope at getting money in for my insanly high medical bills. But he left. And I'm kinda glad.
The creeking silence of age echos through the streets.
Sounds like old wooden floors under heavy feet.
All of the children once running around have evacuated
o maybe they’ve just disappeared
Where have all the children gone?
Just yesterday they were tying ribbons in trees and swinging from the branches.
They were leaping over hot coals and swooning at anything
Where have all the children gone?
Those of us who remain wonder around like abandoned children in shopping malls.
Where have all the children gone?
Maybe this is just a dream
Maybe we are sleeping in rooms filled with metal shelves
If we put our ears to those shelves they would tell us stories of how they were emptied
Emptied por the fingers of fathers
Emptied into the flesh of their sons and daughters.
Where have all the children gone?
We hope they’re hiding
We hope they’re playing a game
But we know this is really happening
Where have all the children gone?
Sounds like old wooden floors under heavy feet.
All of the children once running around have evacuated
o maybe they’ve just disappeared
Where have all the children gone?
Just yesterday they were tying ribbons in trees and swinging from the branches.
They were leaping over hot coals and swooning at anything
Where have all the children gone?
Those of us who remain wonder around like abandoned children in shopping malls.
Where have all the children gone?
Maybe this is just a dream
Maybe we are sleeping in rooms filled with metal shelves
If we put our ears to those shelves they would tell us stories of how they were emptied
Emptied por the fingers of fathers
Emptied into the flesh of their sons and daughters.
Where have all the children gone?
We hope they’re hiding
We hope they’re playing a game
But we know this is really happening
Where have all the children gone?
Ready to get inspired?
amor ya *imaginary hug*