Refrain
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WpMetadataReadMatureComplete Mon, Aug 17, 2015<5 mins
Life is much like tires on a car: once they lose their grip you're gone. Morbid, yea? I know. Such is to be expected from someone on the other side. I hear you now, "What's this guy talking about?" I'm talking about death because I've felt it take away my last breath. It's your choice to read my story. Morbid or enlightening, that's for you to decide.
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Death lingers and revolves in a natural form, a residual being who can see your dreams, nightmares and if it so wishes the common daydreams of mortals. Dreams spill into nightmares so easily that the shift can spur the unknown. What creates the bridge between thought and conciousness? Death is meaning and silence. The mortal path always leads to the same end. Overlapping and intermingling infinitely till life meets death. Though in some instances it's not as simple as that. What kind of life can one lead when death is around every corner? Glimpses into the past, present, and even the future are all tied to death. Can you outrun death even when it licks at your very heels? Who will it take next?

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