A young girl in her room,
Sleepy on her bed at night.
A whispering voice; calling her,
Open the door now, my child.
She woke, and sat up in bed,
Wearing grey, weak,
A figure in pyjama’s, in heavy attire.
Her face had scratches,
Hence she fought with her friend.
Silent her crinkled ears pricked.
She never needed to go to hospital.
Her tears started to drop down,
Calling her parents,
Because they are already dead