The gloom, the despair, the anguish of existence. Oh how woeful be my life, my ever fading soul. The darkness will consume as I be but a frayed wick upon its last flame before I am snuffed. Oh how dreadful this be.
This miserable undertaking of life, doomed, doomed, doomed we are! As doomed as the ant is in the grasp of a child.
Be that life? A child with naive and destructive intent? Innocence mixed with desolation of those beneath it? There is no escape from our fate. We surely all end as does the bright colors painted upon our once youthful faces.
I can hear it already, the wind of death howling over the jagged cliffs, sweeping through the pitch of woods. Cresting over the rolling hills like an army marching with triumph. I can feel it, its cold hands wrapping around my frail neck.
My breaths forming to the bitter air about me. I can see deaths eyes glowing from the shadows of my thoughts. How terrible, how frightful, I shake upon the soles of my shoes as if s…