By Sunder
Long gone had the patience and mercy of the higher gods faded in my being— This SICK and HORRID LIFE I've been living. SANS my sight; SANS my light; SANS my strength and former power. Lacking the mercy of this sad, cruel world that I pity. And all because of a man. I speak of this as is you—unwavering. I speak of this as a woman—full of grace. I speak of this as now a sinner—non compos mentis. As my plum scratched the surface of yet another world, creating another dimension, creating another verse—I stopped. My hand failed me as it quivered with angst. I, a neophyte in the hands of human emotion untied my cravat—the gift of the Divine aristocracy— Taking it off of my already rashed, frail neck; in my weakened, fragile fingers; and unto your own— The man who romanced me in my era of time As the Goddess of Time. I’ve forgotten about you; I thought I had. But these pathetic sentiments refuse to delight me with success, Neither will these biological impulses forged by my brother; For having met you, giving a human immortality. I hate them. I hate everything. I hate you. Blinded by Limerence as you loved another, realizing what is in front of me is not a lover, the times when we were asunder, gave me the doors to my sonder, to wonder, wonder, what I discover, as I woke up from my deepest slumber, that has always been made to plunder, from the depths of the Stygian river. I remembered the thick strokes of the unfortunate pen I threw in enragement. The pen ne’er broke, it cracked—sounding mere crepitation. How I got this information, I cannot say for certain, and much, much more if it were whitened in our purity. From what I say is the truth I perceive to be true; That my senses, my sight is no more. Now being here to ask and ask of you this, “What was it all for?”