I plan to lament, to pity-party, to languish-unapologetic-like, the daylong, in regret and angst.

When dawn of some new era calls, I’ll hear it’s hearken, I’ll know it’s finally time I arise from the rain and fog.

‘Til that day, you’re cursed, Mountain, you’re soul-sold, Hollow, you’re a kind woman’s Relic and Shame.