The Man Named Death
- The Writer
- Sep 15, 2017
- 1 min read
At times like these I find myself faced with a beautiful man named death. He's smart. He's consoling. He's convincing. He whispers sweet promises. Promises Death can't keep. But nonetheless these promises intrigue my withered state of mind. But this man is like that commercial that advertises perscribed medication. It sounds amazing, until you read the fine print. And that fine print says that in order to treat that problem, you have to end it all. But what about my dreams. My hopes and aspirations. Death looked at me with a smirk. "I can't." He looked hurt and looked me in my eyes. But before that happened, my face rose above the water and I gasped for air.
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