I am Death
Life, you are an illusion, a trick that convinces people they own what they only borrow.
You fool them into believing they can gain more, build more, become more, as if any of it follows them past the edge.
Even those who stack riches high enough to block the sun still cannot carry a single thing into what comes after.
They spend everything chasing you; calling it success, calling it meaning.
But I see what they refuse to admit.
They fear me because I end the game they think they are winning.
I end judgment, I end noise, I end everything that pretended to matter.
And in the end, I do not take from them. I simply show them they were never holding anything at all.
So tell me, Life… why do they hate me, and not you?
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