Die Young

"Die young, and leave a beautiful corpse,"
Emily always said.

"That's ridiculous. Your appearance doesn't matter when you're dead."

Emily walked away, back home at dark.
Hoping she wouldn't get another brutal mark.

Her father was there, and filled with rage again.
She didn't need this now, not from him.

Run upstairs, and sleep in the closet.
She was more than used to it.

Day after day, living in fear.
Because of a parent's love of the bottle, always downing beer.

Emily sought comfort, in her one true friend, Allison.
But she wondered every night, if her life would end.

One evening, at Emily's, they were playing Uno.
Emily heard her father pull in, and Allison knew it was time to go.

Her friend ran upstairs, as Emily prepared.
No matter how common, she was still just as scared.

Her father walked in, bottle in hand.
He was nothing less than a man.

Angry and fueled, he started screaming.
Emily knew he was especially steaming.

Begging for mercy, she was on her knees.
Repeatedly pleading, "Please Daddy, please..."

He wouldn't hear it, and struck her down.
Within a few hits, she was on the ground.

Tonight it hurt more though, the strength of his fist.
She pleaded every second, for him to miss.

A few minutes later, he fell to the floor.
He was out cold, drunk, but awake no more.

Allison came running, hearing her friend fall.
But this night she couldn't kiss away it all.

Emily lay dying, in a pool of red.
The hits were too brutal, this was her death bed.

Allison held her, as death ran its course.
Emily whispered,"Die young, and leave a beautiful corpse."