I can feel the end comeing for me. I dont know how. I dont know why. I dont want it. but I dont repulse it. I have wondered. What would become of the people around. The world I built. I fear all memory, all I created, will come crashing down with my life. How will my memory be treated I wonder? Will I be scoffed, scorned, forgotten? This is what I fear, it is what I see. But perhaps. Or should I say more than likely I am dilusional. Subconciously wishing for something final. But who to say death is the final journey. Perhaps there is more. And down it comes peircing the heart like cold winters frost or the silver dagger heat flares and rockets warming the soul for one last breath then cold tearing writhing yet painless sudden final At last peace and all comes to an end