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my friend
May 1, 2015
My friend is at my door
He's wearing a black cloak
His feet float and the air is cold
He wants to take me to his home
He laughs as the blood drips
Knowing he'll have me in a bit
His eyes are red and skin is cool
He wants to take to his rule
Where he lives is full of souls
Where he sits is made of bones
He's not the ruler or the savior
He's basically just the messager
My friend is small but powerful
My friend is a friend of the devil
He takes my hand ad makes the pain stop for he is death
© Jessica P., Bethel Park, PA
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