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Death.
End of ones life.
Memories of old,
Starts to fade.
Joy turns to sorrow,
Grieving in pain.
Misery and self sorrow
Starts to take hold.
Whispers of voices starts to emerge.
Offering us its protection.
Letting us know that all the pain.
And misery that we feel, will go away.
For exchange of its offer.

We decline,
Moving along in our life.
Pushing the very thought
Out of our minds.
But it persist on its offer,
Bringing with it
Memories of old.
Old memories that bares
Pain, guilt, sorrow, anger
And misery.
We stop for a minute.
Observing the memories,
That reminds us,
What we never want to remember again.

The Voice's whispers turns to yelling.
Yelling at you,
At every opportunity,
Every moment of the day.
Persistent with its offer.
The offer to end ones pain.
To end all the misery
And sorrow
You've been through.
The offer off death.
But yet you decline once again.
The Voice's grows angry
And impatient.
They start bring back the old memories.
All the regrets and pain you buried,
Away deep inside.
That no one knows about.
You watch it.
Every memory
It conjures.

One by one, they grow upon you.
The Pain.
The Sorrow.
As each day passes you grow tired of it.
The Voice's grows more aggressive.
Then pleased with what it accomplished.
The Voice is calm,
At ease.
Watching its masterpiece at work.

The Voice comes up from behind.
Whispering in your ear.
Guiding you with its influences.
Gently taking your hand,
And ending ones life.
Ending it cold,
And heartless.
Ending ones life with
Death.