The Little Match Girl Was Dead

The Little Match Girl was dead

And she knew it.

Because when she lit her match

No Wind blew it.

The Little Match Girl was dead

And that was good.

Because when she was alive

She had no hood.

The Little Match Girl was dead

And she was sure.

Because after all this time

No one saw her.

The Little Match Girl was dead

She lit her match.

Because when she felt the warm

She lived and laughed.

The Little Match Girl was dead

And running out.

Because her flickering soul

Was burning down.

The Little Match Girl was dead

And had one match.

Because she lit the last one

She lost her catch.

The Little Match Girl is Dead 

And none will cry.

Because she was dead before

The last match died

This poem is about: 
Our world

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