As I saw her legs give away, I knew one thing death. The pain from her over grown feet and the lice on her back. The only thing I knew was she had given up. She lay there still, not moving, as the breeze went through her hair. They carried her away, on a strecher, covered. The memorial was quiet. Many people came. They slowly, and delacatly placed her in the grave. They overed her and stick a gravestone: MOLLY WE SHALL NEVER FORGET THEE.