Death is Dishonour To lay down and let things fall - or fail is my nemesis stopping seems easier than anything. To struggle seems a constant there is very little room for clemency. If I were to stop who would it hurt? Who would be any the wiser? If I were to sit unmoving surely it would be good the fat lady could finally sing? Would it be so bad to let things die away? All I know All I can think of is the dishonour of letting go.