The sadness! In her I confide. My lover, she wraps her black, decaying arms around me, through me. She whispers to me, a whisper that is louder than a roar.
She fills me, infuses every cell; she drags me deep into ground. I would crawl and drag myself free, but she steals my strength and my will. Reason, compassion, love - all dissapear. All she leaves behind is a silent desperation, a quiet anxiety, a deep pessimism, a sure knowledge that things will not be okay. There isn't enough money. There isn't enough time. You will never be the person you wanted to be, much less what she wants you to be. The children are growing up too fast; they aren't going to be ready for what comes. Your best days are behind you, but there is still so much to be done. You are at your weakest and everyone is depending on you to save them.
She holds me down while the harpies pull, and rend, and feast.