death is a tiny girl in pink — with yellow hair and stick legs -
coming out at twilight , she knocks on your door with her claws in a fist and smiles wide at you from the dark. . .
a wolf in sheeps hide , but she is only a sheep (not even)
and she wants to hold your hand . .
I’ve been playing a lot of love Nikki recently which helped develop this but it was really inspired by another poem I read where they described death as a little girl who listens to the world from underneath the ground