Takahashi's characters, not mine, and I make no money.
What Is Not Dead
She haunts me from within
From the future.
What
is not dead haunts the dead.
And maybe that's why I hate her.
I
mean to say--
I don't hate her, I didn't mean that.
I mean
to say--
She haunts me from within
And now from without as
well,
And there's some unfairness in that.
Unfairness in
everything she thinks is hers.
I know that, when people
die
They go on being dead. Their souls rest.
The hearts of the
loved ones left behind
Are meant to rest as well.
But is it
so wrong, is it so wrong,
that if I can't find that
peace,
That no one else should, either?
I shouldn't
begrudge them that.
I shouldn't.
But I do.