Everything depends on what I do with this blade. I could sink it into the skin and let it all end, here and now. But a tiger is always replaced by a lion. Or should I let a murderer live? I can’t just let him walk away with what he has done, but then again, I am just a barber, doing my job. I am not a murderer.

My hand passes over his chin. It is clean, soft and healthy. I plunge the sharp blade into the basin on the shelf. The warm soap, foaming at my wrist. He gets up and walks over to the counter.

“How much do I owe you”, he asks.

“No charge, Sir”, I reply. I will not take money, gained through service to butchery from this man. My pockets shall remain clean. I shall not shake his hand nor smile at my work. My duty is done.

He smiles and walks towards the door. Opening it, he lets a clawing, musty breeze into the shop. Warm saliva bubbles up my throat and I feel my breath catch deep within. He was so close and I let him go. The door swings shut and I am alone.

It starts with Supergirl

Flying to get us when we are sick

She slays the villainous cold with ice cream and kisses.

As time goes on, she becomes Wonder Woman

Carrying all the school books and bags

The shopping hanging from the tips of her fingers.

Wonder Woman transforms into Cruella De Vil

Stopping us from seeing friends because we "have" to study

Nothing can halt her rampage.

Cruella De Vil turns into Batwoman

The one you call in tears after a tough exam

The one you look forward to seeing when going home

The one whose cooking you miss.

Then comes Black Widow

Both good and evil

The one you know will understand

when you become Supergirl.

Dear Earth,

How much are you worth?

A rabbit is shot,

but stew is put in a pot.

A lion is maimed,

but that lion is tamed.

Your heart is fading,

and people keep trading.

Metal for machines,

New submarines.

An explosion to rattle an army.

You suffer me.

You suffer us.

When is this enough?

When will the cogs turn?

How many forests need to burn?

We are a bruise

causing all the blues.

We are leaving you behind.

Going off to find

another place to harm

to make another farm.

But you still fight back,

making an attack

that will keep the good

and i have understood.

We need to stop.

We need to make a new crop.

We need to change

and We need to behave.

You have nurtured our hive

and because of that, We are alive.

But now let us give,

and hopefully, you will forgive.

There is a place, far from earth, far from space, existing beyond the reach of those alive. To travel to this place, you must first cease to exist, leave your earthly body behind and listen. You must listen until you hear the sound of deaths slow whistle, raspy and shrill. Death will come to find you, long black cloak trickling behind him like water.

For Death to send you to the place you seek, you must tell him how you died, tell your death as if it was a movie. Create twists and turns, it will have to be as engaging as possible for Death to deem you worthy, Death can be picky at times.

Once Death has sent you on, you will travel the light road, it will be as bright as a star, white beams create patterns over the sky, however you cannot dwell on the sights, follow the road as fast as you can, but never run otherwise they will suspect something. Along the roadside spirits sit and beg, you must not speak with them, they are trapped for a reason, never intended to reach the other side.

At the roads end is a vast lake, black liquid laps the shores, a rickety wooden boat sits bobbing on the current. It is here you must have faith, close your eyes, think of flying and breath in and out deeply. If you can do this right, you will take off over the lake, your great feathered wings beating. Look back if you dare, and you will see the ocean demons peer at you, hate blazing in their eyes, pulling the boat back beneath the waves.

Now near your journey's end shall you meet the dueller. An old spirit, though with the energy of a sprite, she will not speak until you ask to pass, tell her that death has sent you, if she accepts this pass by her and enter the void. If she refuses tell her that Nomed has sent you. She will now move aside for you to pass through, and here is where the story ends, though I am sure you are wondering who I am my dear human... For I am Nomed, ruler of the second realm. demoN of all evil.

I turn nineteen on the twenty-first of June, and I am scared of death.

Some fear of nothingness afterward. But I am saved, and I know this isn’t what awaits.

Some fear leaving behind their mothers and sisters. But life is short, and I’ll see mine soon.

Myself…I fear its permanence, as I’ve never been exceptional when it comes to commitment.

I still have yet to see which territory will win the war in my head—who will decide my career: House of Medicine, Writers, or one of the lesser lords joining the fight in hopes that one of the others will fall. I still have not married or adopted children. I still do not know if I will find friendship that lasts.

So much to give myself to.

I am so young, but I am so very afraid of death.

I can only hope what it will be like, as hoping for its prevention is futile.

I hope it doesn’t hurt.

I hope I don’t recognize it or realize it’s coming.

I hope that it’s like being carried from the car to your bed when you fall asleep as a child, embracing and gentle. And when you’re under the covers and the light is flicked off, you can still hear everyone’s muffled voices talking and laughing through the wall.

I hope I learn to stop thinking about it; I don’t want to waste every second of my life fearing about how one day, I won’t have one.

Please, Death, put your training to use. I don’t want to see your face. Come quick as wind and silent as snow.

I think I’d like to be smiling when you arrive.