It seems as if Death does not come fast enough,

the rattling of his carriage unheard

while I presently suffer at the hands of the gods.

Anticipating his arrival for quite some time,

I have been pacing, thinking, preparing,

hoping for his clemency to deliver me from my pain.

Must he be so slow? Others depend

on him with increasing urgency while

he takes his time, watching us with

cloaked eyes and a knowing grin.

I heard the scraping of his scepter

against the dirt at last, but it was then that

the epiphany came to me.

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