An early start
"No father should have to bury their own child" A burial you never meant to see One that was however, Unavoidable by your own expense.
None quite as sickly as this one. You'll never forget this one, as it'll live with you forever.
Not as guilt or sadness But a carry on or a backpack Something that you'd think be a burden But it's surprisingly light
Light with heirlooms Heirlooms others wouldn't dream of Heirlooms you've longed for But now that you have them, You have no need
You can't get rid of them Whatever shall you do? You'll carry them with you And go to the caravans To show others of your artifacts While they show you theirs
There is nothing to buy, Not even show and tell No, this is not a flea market This is a graveyard
A graveyard of children And you're carrying your own child The one you saw grow up The one you raised
Everyone shows you theirs, However, you don't pick one You just stare and think When did I bury this child of mine?