Lying on my floors,
I may not move—
I'm not worthy of it.
I can—
but I won't.
I want to—
but I won't.
It holds me—
binds me even.
My laziness…
my sloth.
My life is complete,
Yet hunger never dies—
Over and over again—
Life goes on without me.
Everything I need
right here—
Why go out?
Why face the shame
that has stuck onto me
like a parasite…
I can't see them anymore—
I cannot see my feet running,
or on the grass.
That parasite
is blocking my view.
My parasite…
my gluttony.
Yet why does no one else have it?
This disease—
It's only me, I tell you.
Yet those "loving people"
say it's not.
My "family" says it's not—
They don't understand it—
my longing to be them…
Beautiful.
This is my Envy.
HA!
But they don't have what I have—
I've got everything—
yet I still yearn for more.
Greed?
Of course it is—
who doesn't have it?
Who doesn't have an anguish
for more?—
As I become bigger,
this anguish grows.
IT DOESN'T CONTROL ME—
NO ONE DOES.
I AM A PERSON, I TELL YOU.
I LOVE AND I LOSE.
Lose…
Heh.
I did lose her, didn't I?
Loved her—
I did—
almost too much—
Was too rough
with the fragile butterfly.
Was it my wrath,
or my lust?
Perhaps it was, yet…
She's still here, though—
Down the stairs.
Never enough for me.
As I was her god—
I was her everything—
She… NEEDED ME…
Yet no more,
For she is Dead…
her own fault.
Did it myself—
One might say,
I just loved her too much;
it hurt.
It does;
hurt.
But this is my pride
Lying on my cold floors,
I wish not to get up.
Please don't make me.