Girl Scout Death

It seems too cold in the room, even chilling,
Girl scout Linda is in her bed, pain feeling.
Fever is one hundred, she’s sneezing and coughing,
She doesn’t want anymore no petting, no coffee.
Where did you get this sickness, young lady?
You were not walking at nights, had your school marks steady.
You helped your granny, participated in school activity,
You were a sample of kindness and productivity.

Oh, that punishing flu!
Oh, that grueling virus!
Slaying innocent people,
No mercy at all.

Doctor looks confused and befuddled,
Answers questions as if he is fuddled.
Mother walks away and returns with some cash.
Oh, boy! She ripped apart her valuable stash.
She mistakenly thinks that her money can help,
She’s obsessed with idea: to buy Linda’s health.
This approach, however, is proven to be risky.
A father is hiding in the kitchen with a bottle of whiskey.


Then suddenly the window opens, I swear,
And a boy in ridiculous pink underwear
Jumps into the room, runs to a cradle,
Making magical passes, as if he’s swimming in hadal.
He kisses her lips like a blood sucking fly.
She wakes up and screams deliriously: where am I?
The boy grabs her hand, whispers a troth,
And they jump out of the window. Both.