Tough Love

This is a poem about my little baby niece whom died when she was 11 weeks and 6 days old.

I want to blame myself so bad
Every night I feel so sad
What could I have done to change it?
It’s just so strange, it’s way too lame
I only want her back
I’m struggling from the lack
Of tears, which I cry each night
This is something I just can’t fight
I’m so depressed I feel so Goth
No one understands why I always wear black
Don’t you see I just want her back?
She was my only niece you just can’t take her like that
What are you some kind of freak?
She only lived for eleven weeks.
And six days of course, but why?
Why not eighty-two years or at the least seventy-five?
So I could have been dead
But I’m not, she is
But why her and why so early?
I want some answers whiz!