A calmness envelops her soul
The agitated branches whip about violently
but to her they dance gracefully
As the wind howls in frustration for it cannot topple a mountain,
she hears her mother's lullaby sweetly sung, full of love
Raindrops, as cold as death's chilly grin, fall upon her flaming skin
She frowns momentarily in confusion for though she feels full of life,
a cold numbing feeling starts to creep upon her
She begins to panic for this feeling is new to her
She struggles to recall what she fights for
She tries to sit up, to shake off the grip of this foreign touch
Where is life's comforting caress?
What is this alien thing wrapping around her? Crushing her?
Her lungs struggle to fuel her with the energy to fight,
But like the tiny bird will struggle against the mighty wind,
only to topple to the ground so does she
Her mouth opens in a final scream as the golden halo consumes her
Her frigid face is a mask of torment, reflecting a universal truth
For death is not pretty