You were her "Uncle Don" she called you,
She'd dive you a kiss and hug you tight, 
 We called her our "Little Princess",
As her smile was always bright,
 Christmas Eve should be a happy time,
Not a time to cry,
 For a four year old and her mother
Because of you had to die.

 What could she have done to you?
Could it really have been that bad?
 What could she have done to you?
To make you that insanely med?
 
 Suffering should not be for a little girl,
She still had life ahead of her,
 What could she have done to you?
Why did you make suffer?
 
 At their funeral they each wore,
A turtle-neck to hide their scars,
 Now I think of the girl and her mom,
Everytime I look up at the stars.
 She loved you very much, and 
We love her still, too
 
 The only thing I want to know,
Is what could she have done to you? 
 

In memory of four-year-old Alyssa and 24-year-old Amanda


 As an explination, my "adopted sister" who has known my
family since before I was born. Her name is Mandy.
Well, over a year ago, she was living with us and recieved a
phone call ,on Christmas Eve morning,from one of her real
little sisters saying that their Brother's girlfriend and
their daughter were missing. The next morning, Christmas
Day, they were both found dead at this guy's house (who the
cops did find). Their throats had been slit, and Alyssa was
hidden. It was horrifying. So, this poem was directed toward
the murderer asking an obvious question, What could she have
done to him?