Inspired by The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

He is not black.
No.
He is pale.
No.
Not dark.
For he is bright.
Yes, he is white.

They are cold,
His arms, hands, fingers.
They are ice.
And they burn.

He sheds tears,
Without a face,
Tears for the human race.
As he holds us,
And we burn,
His still heart aches for us.

Yes.

Death has a heart.