I wonder if death is but a state of being
You, understanding what’s happening around but can’t react to it
You, watching your loved ones crying hysterically over your lifeless form, wishing for you to come back and
all you can do is watch
I wonder if this is how we pay for our sins.
It’s probably a greater punishment than having to meet with the devil and labour at an unknown place with an unknown identity with nobody to care for you nobody for you to care about and nobody who is anybody who probably thinks this is repentance enough,
maybe that’s what hell really is
And no matter how much I’d want to leave this world anytime anywhere
I am scared to go for it
We aren’t born risk takers
But death is the last risk in the straw heap
We are afraid of what’s steadily strange to us
I am afraid of the endless possibilities it shoulders.