The Faux of Life

I hate death. Not because it takes a life but because it spends it's time weaving and forging the best of a person to display. A new light as the same light fades, bringing forth a brighter version of those who seek to stay. Empty words and false promises brought for by the recipient of life and the applicant of death always end in a funny way. Most of us are twist and wrought with an unseen darkness that slowly rots and decays all around it. Yet Death's knock always manages to uproot this very rot. Death, done by both friend or foe, alone can make one person deemed devilish to find saintliness for the first time in their life when all seems not. Death done by the very life that it unravels often tweaks the fabric of trust and joint a family has, in this a battle is fought. I love death. For it is the only bringer of truth irregardless of the faux of life.