The ancient past,
Once so alive and pulsating that,
No other future seemed possible,
Is now a regular haunting,
While someone who used to be me,
Once so young in spirit,
Stumbles haphazardly into a grand old age.
Hating, and, with seething loathing,
Points a crooked finger right at them,
Pointedly and with the depth of despair,
That she now has.
She screams amidst this final consuming fire!
Even as they may try to stamp it out.
Helene.