Death in a bowl of sugar - II

She comes again. Only this time it’s a distilled image of a dear friend inched in torment and anguish. It’s a word called pain, the oh so familiar deviant friend that visits us often - the one that lurks behind shut doors, slings onto our backs along clustrophobic corridors, is a constant gardener who mans our seeds of growth. And she comes dressed in finesse whispering th chants of decay and pulling soul hearts all along.

She visited again today at 15.30 and took away someone.

Will we walk again tomorrow - like we day each day closer to the valley of death!!!!