How do you tell a man that he is going to die? How do you let him in on the fact that his greatest fear, however foolish, is going to get the best of him? How do you let him know that it is going to be painful, that there will be regret and remorse? That he will scream from pain and cry more fiercely that he remembers having done before?

I know the words. I have said them before. I have whispered them to myself in dire situations time and time again. But then they were lies. Now they are bitter to say to someone else and I would not bear such news.

I don’t feel like breaking the heart of an individual that has told himself time and time again he is strong but fears something that he cannot avoid. Perhaps I haven’t the heart to break the reality he created from himself, however fake and frail it is. Why me?

Why do I have to be the one to crush the glass pillar he built his life upon and expose him for the weak creature he is? What a cruel fate and what a cruel gift.

But I will be strong because I am. I will hold my own against the pressure and withstand the ebb and flow. I will be what he cannot be and what he has convinced himself he is.

My chest will bear his blows. My fists will break his will. My words will punish his pride and fell his facade. Then, when the task is done I shall know my own purpose; to tell that which cannot be told to those who would not hear it.

Oh mighty man a frailty your lies have made you. Time they greatest friend and mortal enemy. Fear not its grasp for there is nothing you can do to be released from it. Death, it comes.