D E A T H

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Death. Darkness. Coldness. Fear. You don't know it's coming, you're running out of time to say your goodbyes. Goodbye. What is a goodbye? When do I say goodbye? How do I say it? What waits for me when I finally do? A world I've so longed to see? A life I've so longed to live? Peace? Or shall it be suffering? Or a man, of pure bone, cold to touch, with a dark ragged cloak. If only I could know. But until then, I sit here, wondering, waiting, with what I believe to be the fear of the unknown.

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