The poet of thorns

Make a friend with death

A little girl was running
Life is like a roller coaster
Nothing is meaningful until you see a bright light
A life comes from laughter, happiness, and comfort
HEr life comes from death, sympathy, and money
She was running and running until she fell
She fell into a hole
She was somewhere nobody could go

She was in a place where she saw her parents not worried that she is gone
She saw how her parents just not care and bought a new kid
She felt nothing watching from a close distance
But...
A hand
A hand full of sympathy
She turned away not wanting the hand
This hand was nothing new to her
But then the hand grabbed her wrist
Tugging and pulling her to the dark abyss
She scream and shout but she was soon to shut up
She saw how this hand soon became a somewhat human called death
He just wanted to help her
And that's what he did
He gave her a resting place
To call her own
And she now found hope
Hope for a little peace in her own mind