The Secrets of Death

I know Death, for I have stared him in the eye. He comes to me in my dreams. He is my Guardian, but holds no similarities as that of a Guardian angel. He is not my friend, nor my foe, but walks hand in hand with my enemies. Fate and Destiny, are no friends of mine, and neither is Death. Yet in the depths of my conscience he whispers warnings of horrors that are to come. He sways my thoughts to avoid the end that confronts me. I know that I cannot blame him for all death that follows me, for it was not his fault nor his job to stop it. It is only his job to guide the dead to where they will stay for the rest of eternity. Oh, but some days I feel the tug of the end and I pray for nothing more than for him to take my away from the land of the living, away from my living hell. Yet he refuses me and turns away with only sadness in his eyes. Death is not the kind to feel.

He is emotionless.

Cold.

Unmoving.

Yet he shows me kindness of which he should not be capable of. I have met with him before. Sat in front of him and talked, and he has listened to me. He never says anything, he just listens, contempt with hearing my problems that boil inside of me and threaten to tear me apart. He knows who I am, he knows what I've done and he knows what I will do. When I am down he is there to nurture the pain and keep it hidden from the predators who lurk in the shadows waiting for weakness to show before they attack. He has kept me going even in times I feel like I have nothing left. He has been there for everyone I have loved and lost and each time has given me the pleasure of one last good-bye. He has lead them far away from me, somewhere where I can never go, because it their eternity - not mine. The only time I have ever heard him speak was the last time I saw Death. I could see the pain, loss and fear in his eyes, as tears rolled down his checks. I asked him what was wrong, for I knew that Death does not cry. But all I got from him was my name,

before he disappeared forever.