Don’t know if this counts but here

What if death was a person? Would you hate them or accept them? Would they be lonely or popular? Would they eat food like you and me, or maybe, just maybe, they could be you or me, or a fragment of our imagination? Or is it an item, something you can smell or touch? Can you see them there under the streetlight, on the TV, in your bed, or in the closet? Or sometimes in your dreams, in that same ominous trench coat with a scythe, calling you to the darkness, a part of your mind wanting you to give in. But DO YOU?