Death is not a one way street. To be more specific on the subject there is more than one way to die. Death comes in many forms, it twists and turns and infiltrates your very existence. It can consume your soul yet leave a living, breathing body behind in its tracks. 

Hope.

Hope is a deadly thing. It readies a soul for a limitless amount of happiness and never ending beauty. 

It can pollut you by whispering tales of wonders and dreams by filling your niave mind with hope. 

Hope is nothing more than deaths beautiful cousin. When the people turn or flee from death they rush right into the arms of hope. Into the arms of a much deadlier poison. 

 There is no possible way around it. No matter the strength of the heart of the soldier... the fight will kill them in the end. 

Experience they said, gave a person not only bravery but the opportunity to go and be whoever they wanted. 

Hard work and dedication was said to be the root of all that was good. Nothing bad could ever come of such goodness.

Death, no matter the path chosen will always consume it's victim. 

Why was is that no matter how much happiness felt the opposite was always stronger? 

Why was it that no matter how hard I tried I was a mistake? 

Why was it that my soul was less valid than everyone else's? 

Why was I a system error? 

Why did death love me when I did not love him?