A friend of mine’s daughter said she had to write a poem for school and she asked me to write one for her. And I asked her what she wanted to write about, and she said, "death." So this is what I wrote for her.
The Angel of Death is a friend of mine,
he’s waiting and watching for the right time
to take you back where you first came from.
No more laughing, no more playing, no more running in the sun.
So I hope you lived good in this land of dreams
because the end comes quick, or so it seems.
One day you’ll meet the friend of mine,
he won’t be late, he’s always on time.
You don’t have to say, “Hi,”
I’ll tell him myself the day, “I die!”
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