The Sad Things

For years upon years

I pondered why her quill quivered so.

And why she stroked me so belligerently,

Her tears covert…

Fabricating a crater through my core.

It wasn’t until that Midnight, when I perceived the fiends

Who clawed and untangled the masses , which composed her mind.

Rewiring what was once lustering.

Mangling the fantasies into accounts of reality.

At night her bellows would penetrate my frailty

Eventually, her wails would fail.

My heart would terminate.

Afar, the moon would clamor.

The Earth would stop

A shatter would erupt.

And as the years tumbled over the others,

He knew he had messed

When she uttered,

“The Sad things make me happy.”