Who Is...

Death, the end, over, darkness. It comes for the vessal you have occupied since the beginning. Thoughts, emotions, feelings, your looks, your smell, the sound of your voice, the feel of your touch; all put into one place, locked behind someone else's memories.

Only a name remains if you once used it. The one put on paper now lays etched into the stone that weighs you down; addressing your final resting place.

Mysterious, calculating, unforgiving, unannounced, interrupting your agenda, your day, your dreams, your future. Nondiscriminating, all are welcome, all are invited to stay.

Surprised, but why? Warned since day one, tomorrow's a maybe. Spontaneous, disliked, feared, yet forgotten; for now, until a time an unknown hand is placed upon your shoulder.

Silence, then sleep, nothing to gain, it just is. No feelings, no emotion, no remorse, never hidden, always entitled, never wrong, blameless, final; This is death.