Death

Death. Death is a cold harsh wind, blowing out the fragile flame of life. A swiftly falling blade, severing in one killing stroke. A flying shining arrow, shooting towards it's victim, no mercy. A white bony hand, chocking the neck of life, suffocating. Death is many things, a quick painful end, a slow, pain-filled finish.

Or.

Is death a welcoming wind, cooling down the scorching heat of life? A kind sugeons nife, cutting out the pain and hurt? A warm, welcoming hand, helping lifes end along? Is death these many things? A quick painless end. A slow joy filled finish.

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