I wrote this after my grandad died. It's kinda disturbing now, as I look back on it. When I wrote this I was 12, and not Christian. I entertained these thoughts a lot.

Vanished. That's another one to fall victim. Empty now like a shell. All the colours washed away; an empty palette. Life replenished by death. My fault, my wish. People fear me: they don't know me. To them I'm a black hole of pain and despair. They're right. But I'm so much more. They wonder of course. There's always the dreamers, the religious types, the daredevils. I can catch them easily. Just another fly in a spider's web. People only meet me once. The time when they're cold, alone, scared and drained. When they're souls have become a nothingness; a deep, dark void. I can live in their world. They're hearts run from me in their despair, but they are helpless. The hearts warmth can be overcome by ice. People fear me, because to them, I'm a one-way ticket, no return. A journey to a place of decay. They're right. I'm everywhere. You can't get away from me! You can't hide! I'm here, right now, judging you, just waiting for the right time. You can't get away from me, don't try. I'm untouchable. Do you know who I am?