We are, 
all of us, 
Humans;
Real in some way,
Known by some sin,
Destroyed by some weakness.
We are,
All of us,
Imperfect,
Marred by the image of a goddess;
of ignorance by one little girl's eyes,  
And heart.
You were human, 
Oh-so-long-ago, 
but now you are only a dream, 
Fuzzy and worn paper-thin by the hands of a little girl who never understood. 
Now that your humanity has slipped away,
That little girl is clinging, 
delicately to the end of a frayed string,
Unraveling fast as she wishes for the answers buried under the veil of forgetfulness. 
As she digs,
You are humanized, 
Carefully, 
Like a broken dream;
But oh time has disappeared so quickly for a little girl who sees seconds as days,
And minutes as years;
So now eight years that are maybe to the little girl only a few minutes have passed away.
We are, 
All of us,
Human,
Even you, 
My dearly shunned ghost;
We are all weak,
And blinded by the Grim Reaper's cloak;
We are all destined to die,
As you have,
But this little girl still holds hope for humanity in the palms of her shaking hands.