The light fades from her eyes.
The last spark of life, gone.
Witnessing a death is truly magical;
wonderful,
inspiring.
Once a soul experiencing this world:
laughing,
crying,
screaming,
silence.
We are all the present her, you understand.
A bag of bones and blood.
Only some worth more.
Each breath goes unnoticed,
until their last ones.
Observing her force leaving this world brings a smile;
a tear.
What are we really?
Walking, talking puppets?
For a superior being\'s amusement?
Or are we alone?
Death is but a slipping into nothingness;
A sweet bliss,
or an endless void.
Either way,
I cannot wait to die.