death comes quickly to those who fear it the most; slowly to those who need it the most. it is but a loathsome thing--not because it brings about the cessation of life but because it destroys hearts. love hurts and love cut short stings like salt in a wound. and bitterness of tongue follows without end. tears fall and form a sea of emptiness; a numbness that masks all feeling. how my heart is battered! my spirit torn! oh respite come with haste! but lo i remain unchanged, unfettered by the restraints of hateful cherubs. and in the end alone. always. yet this is nothing new. as my pen began to stroke this page i knew the end result, nothing.