I speak of moments lost in a crime,
Of tragedy, a smile lost in time,
I speak of little Anne so much life,
Who deserved to die free of strife,
But life has prevented her life other wise,
Both of her parents dead before her eyes,
Why scream the earth for her deep brown eyes,
Too young to understand yet she cries,
Destiny can sometimes be truly evil,
Sharpe as knife just deadly lethal,
Being in different family\'s who cares not,
That of her mothers love she forgot,
Alittle inside her light just darken,
The endurance of such a pain gets sharpen,
what can you know about crying in a dark room,
For her sort eyes lost in endless doom,
In one lonely night rose a savior unforeseen,
She puts on her crown for now she must be a queen,
When your motherless imagination takes over,
Fills the void deep inside with a yellow clover,
At the age of ten her misery come to end,
She find a home and someone to call a friend,
I wonder how many of us take it for granted,
The word home to some means a life advantage,
Yet All she wanted to hear was she\'s my daughter,
Such feeling could only be described with being underwater.