Death, you can not escape his bony grasp, he is watching, waiting for you. Everything has its limit. We will all face him one day. He will take his scythe and reap us with no hesitation. Our book's will be place on his shelf along with thousands of others. We will collect dust, as he collects more of us, filling the shelves till they hold no more. But if everything must end, it begs the question: will Death end as well?