I have never given thought to how death would find me.
How the cold surrounds you, like an comfortable blanket, yet it's icy and confusing.
The sharpest of light nearly blinding you - closed eyelids.
Pressuring down on your chest - glawing on your heart - your mind starts to slowly erase, memories fading, picture for picture.
I never have given thought to how death would find me and, yet, I'm not worried at all.