"To a well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure."
- J.K. RowlingDeath. Self-consuming, selfish, sadistic. Enticing, for some. Fear, for others. The murky void, promising to lead you through a tunnel. A tunnel, with white light at the end. Hard journey, it is.
Death. Some walk bawling toward it, some mute, while some opportunely. It's powerful. Powerful enough to obliterate one's identity - an identity that took an epoch to erect. Powerful enough to expunge bonds - bonds that were spun with devotion. Powerful enough to break one - the one who was always keen on you.
Death. It heals the same scar it gives you. Heals the heart you so valiantly broke whilst alive.
Death. It brings you at crossroads again. Crossroads you were fearful to face in life.
Death. Stare it back in the face, and it'll let you live. Scare it, scar it.
Death. You can die for it, but can't live for it.
Death. Gloomy, hushed, two-faced.
"Death is the day worth living for."