To write about death,isn't one of the things I enjoy or have ever enjoyed.what fascinates me is the one's journey towards it. More than death I find the journey beautyfull or pleasing no matter how painful it is.may be I enjoy it as its not mine or someone I know,but..but I somehow just know(imagine) how it is/could be. I have heard people telling me its nice,beautyfull etc etc it always make me wonder about what are they talking about is it my poem or the death.death isn't nice and since the poem talks of it I don't know how it can be nice either. It's like separating the subject all together. But then again how is that I don't like death but the journey towards it(comment to myself 'how much more paradoxical can you get?') It's tormenting..tormented with my own.thoughts..(devil's mimicking laugh).
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