Death

Death.
It comes to you, uninvited, taking your soul from your body.
It waits, from the moment you are born, for that one moment to step up.
It lingers in the darkness, wanting to wrap it's cold, icy fingers around your neck.
It is feared, people cower at the word, it's inevitability looming overhead.
It is welcomed, for when one is to old and weak to continue or to miserable to live on, they welcome death with open arms.
And it comes. It always comes.
People buy things to make life easier, but they are just hiding from death, trying to forget it, ignoring it's essence.
Death can come at any moment, whether you are young, old, walking, driving, or sitting.
And just it's inevitability is what is scary.
It can come.
It will come.
It should come.