She smelled of death, like a rotting soul,
yet still, I did approach her,
I wished to help, I thought I could,
but never have I been so wrong,
she loved me for it, and I loved her back,
the pain I felt, was like a rush in fact,
the more I helped, the more I hurt,
her touch was cold, and it would burn at first,
then callus formed, my hands grew strong,
my soul grew cold, and my life was gone,
I smelled of death, and i burned inside,
till it was just me and her, standing side by side.
