March to DeathMature

Death chases all, for some it's just nature. For some, death holds a vendetta.

I have seen death. I looked it in its hollow black eyes and slew it. From then, death claimed my soul, it runs after me; a wolf, running through the desolate plains under the waxing moon. A raven, cloaking its midnight black wings around me, the chase is on. Death catches up with everyone, me?

I plan to out-run it.

We are taught not to love or hate. We are taught to be hollow and cold. Emotion is weakness. I was a fool not to believe them.

The End

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