Death...

Death...

I know how I'm going to feel.

I think I know how I'm going to feel.

I hope I know how I'm going to feel.

I don't know.

I know how I'm going to react.

I think I know how I'm going to react.

I hope I know how I'm going to react.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

They're gone. He's gone.

She's gone.

We're gone.

I'm gone.

They're all gone.

I know that they're not coming back, but I feel like they should.

I'm to blame,

I feel like I am,

I know I'm not but I'm fighting myself.

I know he didn't do it, I know she didn't do it, it was just their time.

That's what time does, it ends.

But although it ends, it doen't only end.

Sometimes it ticks on, not as clockwork, but a nature.

It may take away, but it also rebuilds.

For us to focus on only ending, is to deny reconstruction.

~TheWonderfulMisterNoob