I wasn’t ready for what it meant.
The blood has ran its course.
You leave me here to ponder,
If I could have had more.

Regret is a sadistic thing,
I wished for nothing more than death.
That clasps me in her sweet embrace,
Still and kind and quick.

Your razors measure thin,
An inch away off my tapestry.
You hesitate, and wait.
So short yet still mine if only for a moment.

I am alive and still here,

In the waiting room of the fates themselves.
-Percy