death... my friend

November 2, 2011
cold is the black top beneath my feet
winter is coming
trees become as bare as my feet
as things begin to die
the wind, like a glacier, barrages my arms
I huddle in my own arms
trying to remain warm
I fail
night is quickly approaching
with it a different type of fear
all around is darkness
behold the fiends of night
hide if you can for by morn you’ll surely be dead
I have no need to hide
feeling grows numb
hunger suddenly stops
vision begins to blur
pain increases then
stops
clarity
a man in a black hood
beckons me forth
like an old friend





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