I feel so empty in this place of fear, hollowed out, broken, worse for wear, and I’m on my knees, begging heaven. Let this pass, let this cup pass, and let the horror end. These last days, like a prisoner waiting to be hanged. I hear them test the trap door. The lights flicker when they charge the generators. The guillotine slices the melon clean. I’m waiting, we’re all waiting, and I’m on my knees, begging heaven. I can barely lift my head for my sorrow.
This also shall pass. This also must pass. God, save us from this nightmare!
Tale Told 