All That Bad

Everyday I look to the clouds

Hoping to see your face.

There are memories in my mind

That are so hard to erase.

Not all of them are great,

Most of them are sad.

But is still thinking all of those things

All that bad?

July nineteenth

two thousand and seven

You were sent to this place

Some call it heaven.

But I miss you too much to believe

And I love you too much to tell

If you being in heaven

Creates my own personal hell.