Falling isn’t a choice that is given kindly. Understand of how the picks away at you, as what a normal road kill as living animals, bugs, and the elements withering you away. Leaving nothing but bones.

Sockets empty and clean. Faint lines of life lingers. Enough time soon. It will be gone. It’s how falling works, slowly and acute.

Can’t be worst than being eaten alive. Feeling the many forms of mouths, not of love or lust, but huger and rage. Screams covered by things that wanted moist and warmth. A tender meal as well to snack on well sleeping.

Flesh pecked away. Ripped apart like how sugar-high young children would do, mindlessly and quick as the wind, to wrapping paper hidden gifts.

Oh how the mighty of have fallen. Burying is the wise thing to do. But the main thing now is, just making sure you don’t get caught. For now you’re the mightier one. And that person is the fallen.

Ditch the gun and go home. Your day is done. Let the nature feast on its new meal. Goodbye, the fallen.

The End.