A Gig, Ironically, For Life

There you are again, making your way into our lives, creeping in, taking, leaving void where void should not be. 

You steal. 

You rob. 

You hurt. 

You break. 

You borrow sanity and return it in its form of in

You take answer and breed questions, forever to remain without logical response. 

You dessimate peace and spread seeds of grief amid a drought of tranquility. 

It should have gotten easier to know and to expect you by now, since you and I made our acquaintance at a very early age. 

It is never easy, whether you take someone near and dear or whether you take someone near and dear to someone near and dear. 

You leave loss in your wake and ravage future days rendering them incomplete at inception. 

The dawn is no longer as bright and the night just seems longer and darker. 

We are resilient and we bounce back, but we lose a little of our swagger. Our familiarity through life becomes a bit more reserved. We add caution to our day and learn that at any moment you can make a reappearance. 

And appear you do. You can’t help yourself. This is your gig, ironically, for life

You never meet your own demise because in your world you will never meet yourself. 

You are…

Death. 

  

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