DEAR DEATH [part 2]
dedicated to afternoon_hustle

dear death,

people often perceive you like an obscure, skeletal figure, wearing a black cape. you are seen as someone with dark, scabbed hands, holding a long axe, the scythe of death, that can cut the strings of life. perhaps because everything inauspicious or negative has to be black. but i see you in pure white, that can resemble the winter morning mist, that is insensitive, lifeless. truth is white; it has always been white. it is permanent, like you. however, black is the colour of the universe, the colour of my soul, the colour of birth. the colour which will die just the way it was born. and that is nothing i can associate you with.

your beloved,
SweetSimu.