Book Thief

I found her on the corner of the street;
trying to put together the courage to sneak through the shadows
and into the smell of a warm afternoon with a cup of tea,
the dead are calling me though,
they’re whimpering in their decay,
and their colors are fusing and shouting in my mind,
but I can’t keep my eyes off of her,
she’s staring at a library with longing and with self-hatred,
the sky thunders with blood and grief,
he’s calling me now,
now I know I can’t stay,
but as I pull the souls from this earth,
I keep looking back,
keep trying to find the book lover that couldn’t read.