There's a story, I'm told. There's a story, I'm told, About a man who's growing old, And he was never good at poker, Because every hand, he would fold. It's a lesson people learn, About the candle that they burn, And just how everybody tends, To burn their candle at both ends. Because, #life doesn't last forever, For that, it is a wild endeavour, So do your best to give it all, Walk on the edge, no fear of fall. There's a story, I'm told, About a man growing old, He ended up a master at poker, Because his soul, he never sold.

The Burden Of Madness The man looked at himself in the mirror and sighed; it had been a while since he'd seen a mirror, and seen himself. His former #life had been tough on him, causing him to look more aged than he should for a man of 30. The sight of himself shook him to the core, he reminded himself of his father; the man who he once despised more than anyone or anything. Thoughts of his family flashed through his mind, his ex wife and his children, whom he held so close. They would all be old now, he mused. Smiling at the thought of his family growing up, he moved slowly away from the face of his father's shadow and slumped into his tattered and torn arm chair. When he sat the room fell silent as he pondered on the pain of them being without him; not having him there for being a father. His hand reached down to the side of his chair, then crawled underneath the seat to find the cold metal of the gun he kept there. He put the gun to his head, cocked the trigger and muttered 'I'll be with you soon children...'

Eyes Of A Killer #3 I brushed myself down and walked towards the knocking sound of the door; I knew it was what I didn't want. In the mix of emotions that ran through my mind, I managed to find my bravest face and put it on. I opened the door looking like somebody that had just lost their wife; and I seemed to pull it off pretty damn good. A part of me did miss her, and I just held onto that and embraced it. The door was slowly pulled open by my hand, and even through it being ajar, I could see the police blues that were the people knocking. "er, hello officer.", managed to be the only thing I could slip from my lips, "hello, sir we came as fast as we could.", the officer had the honesty in his voice that all police members seemed to carry, but there was something different about him, he was passionate. "Do you mind if we come in and ask you some questions?", I expected such a question but when it was spoken, I could've fooled myself even. "Yes, sure, take a seat, please." I decided to talk in hurried sentences to give the impression I was sad; they would hopefully never see past my emotional disguise, and see the stone cold killer that laid beneath.

Only when you embrace death, will you understand #life. Go an stare death in the face; then I will consider your advice on living.

I love cute people, they make #life worth living.