It's raining,
it's pouring,
this waiting is boring.

They're crying,
they're mourning,
And now I am dying.

The sun may be bright,
but I've no use for it
for I am no plant,
I needn't photosynthesis.

You don't break a sweat
unless you're running from your problems.
You do not clean
unless you sweep your guilt under the rug.
You do not bathe
unless you procrastinate.
You do not sleep
unless there is too much to bear.

When I have been struck by an arrow of silver, I lay, awaiting death.

"Mother will cry!"

May she grieve quickly.

"Father will cry!"

May he mourn peacefully.

"Brother will cry!"

May he live happily.

"Your lover will cry!"

May he become free.

I am the Gatekeeper
to the threshold accompanied by
the unfortunate souls
that were victims of another humans wrath.

I tend not to compare
my expectations to reality
because I would see the same thing
each and every time.