Too Soon

Death woke up one Christmas morn,
To receive the gifts that Life had borne.
One by one they were slowly presented;
Death was delighted but the drawn pace resented.
Death hurried on to snatch up a present;
Death said it was time, Life insisted it wasn't.
Life pleaded with Death to wait for his gift;
Death ripped through the wrapping,
The girl slit her wrists.

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