I watched, by your bedside as time past us by. I sat by your bedside as time past us by. I stood by your bedside as time past me by. I kneel by your graveside as time past you by.

Not just yet.

This is always coming. It is always coming. I always knew this. You always knew this.

Then why is your/our/anyone's demise so fucking full of sadness? The meloncholic journey from the realms of hospital corridors to the mortuary stares us in the face almost daily, and yet we live on, just to spite that hooded scythe-laden creature.

I/you can see your fate laid out before us/you/me, and when this much has past, i guess we all know that the end is always near.