Calmed_Hatter

My friend crawled home in his smallest capacity, withered, lifeless, and ragged with eyes of the fear of death on the pupil. 

And the last thing to remember is there's no way to change anything; the last thing that fits the puzzle is that it's already done.

And he and Death breathe together at throat chopping speeds.  Measure of evil instep, darkened tune of trapists of hell, mocking.

We stand no chance but these reminders of being 17 don't help.