I'm uncomfortable. I hate this feeling—

buried underground, wrapped in fabric.

I don't like this. I feel nature taking its course. 

I hear voices above me; what are they saying?

“He must pass on!” I hear one say,

“His triumphs far outweigh his sins”, 

said the warm and friendly voice.

“He is unworthy!” “He will spend his eternity with me.”

As the other spoke, a shiver ran down my spine.

His voice, dark and brooding, 

like a withering rose, rising from the scene of death.

The two seem to be arguing about something.

My fate? That's ridiculous; I wasn’t that bad!

I should go to a good place, right?

That’s what I have been promised for so long.

All I had to do was believe, right?