Death.. a sweet embrace into a pleasant afterlife, or a cruel fate not wished upon one's worst enemy.. who can say?
If my time as the harbinger of death, a reaper as some might call me, has taught me anything, it is that mortals will never fail to struggle.
Why they bother to do so has always eluded me, yet I find my curiosity on the subject somewhat intrigued.
Nothing in my experience has yet to teach me that answer, so I now find myself recording my observations here in this journal, hoping that one day someone might find this and discover an answer to this fated question.
Just what is the point in putting up such a struggle when your fate had already been sealed from the moment that creation began?
Just what does it mean to live? To be alive?
This is an answer I may never hope to find, for I am death incarnate and if I ever were truly alive, I cannot say, for when death may never take you, you may never truly live.
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Tales Of A Poet
PoetryA collection of poems add short stories, some with a bit of a dark tone, some lighthearted.
