Death thinks of me as his daughter,
Whispering his word into my ear,
Beckoning me to prove myself
In joining him on the other side.
His arms are strong, comforting
And his presence is absolute;
He tells me he will wipe away my pain,
All of my worries and the tears
I am far too broken to shed.
He whispers that he loves me
And in a world as cold as this,
I just want to believe someone does.