Prologue

Why does dying look so peaceful?

Why does dying look so peaceful?

So simple to journey free of your body.

I don't think I was supposed to die yet.

It was a realisation that had dawned on me a little too late.

To sink staring upwards at the stars

Flying momentarily with the soaring doves.

It's a strange thing, death. It's meticulous ways of opposing- no, complementing the ways of life. Following each other in a mindless chase with one definitive winner.

One definitive fate.

To drop, arms outstretched with the wind whipping

My hair loosely, grasping at the lilies that paint the street.

And yet death was the most intriguing notion of life. Although absolute, we know nothing of what lies beyond the black curtain. The hooded veil that hung over the world for a long time, always threatening. A jealous force snatching away at the parts I'd most loved.

It was silent except for the melodrama ringing in my ears

A wicked exchange of dancing blades biting at my cheeks.

Was death lonely? As a child, I had wondered curiously about the tale between life and death. What their stories were, what drove them apart. But mostly, the mystery of where I belonged in this tragedy.

Half a second passed, the time turned rotten

Cheap seconds tick away from my betrayal.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I pity death.

Spare moments flashed like my reflection

Mirrored was life's one demise, sullen and sorry.

But I pitied life more because, in this game of cat and mouse, victory slipped between its grasp. From the cry of a baby to the whisper of the elderly— death claimed all without discrimination.

Closer, one blazing lie as I die surrounded

Perhaps I should have taken more out of spite.

It was a cynical cycle, one I would detest till my last breath.

Almost there, my shadow stretches underneath

The stray ray of sunlight, not for me.

Death felt compelled to kill everything, and now I opened my arms in hopes it claimed me too.

Why does dying look so peaceful?

When it is not.