• Oh, so you fear the dead?
    The poor souls turned rotten in their boxes,
    Their dead minds lashing out at ours?
    The men and women who feared just as we do?

    So you fear the damned?
    The suffering of the whipped,
    and the smell of brimstone?
    Their claws, and the rebukes of their liars' mouths?

    So you fear Death?
    The pale-faced man,
    Whose iron sickle takes us from this place?
    Who bears us no anger, only his love?

    So you fear Judgement?
    The cold, detached hand of God,
    Ripping your deeds apart,
    Judging your sins, and
    Consigning your soul to the dark?

    So you fear Eternity?
    The endless dark, stripping us of our sanity,
    and giving us unto the end?
    The cold embrace of our suffering ending?

    So you fear these things?
    Then you are a Fool.

    Fear the GUNSHOTS!
    The warm, smooth feeling of the knife in your breast,
    Fear the bullet, the blade.
    The Mugger, The Murderer, The Sadist.

    Fear Humanity. Fear Greed.
    Fear Lust. Fear Suffering.
    Fear the dark of an alley, the stealthy tread of footsteps.

    Do not fear what comes after the end.
    Fear the evil which men do to one another,
    In sickness and health,
    For good intent or bad,
    And accept that death only comes
    When you fear it too much
    To ceace it's steps.