Dearest child,
I see you have tried to outrun me,
My little crows tell me so.
You know you cannot escape me,
And I just thought you should know;
Give up your hopes, brush off silly dreams,
For they’re all going nowhere, it seems,
Like tiny butterflies,
In my clutch, they die.
Oh, but as do many things I tend to grasp,
Nothing can defy my wrath.
I’ll be gentle, dear, why don’t you come here?
It’s so much nicer than almost anywhere.
I’ll reach out my hand, you take it lightly,
Escape the fears I know you have nightly.
Don’t hold your breath, it’s safe to go,
For I shall be your friend, alone.
You will not rest in lands above,
This is my letter,
From Death,
With love.