Some days are better than others.
What is it that weighs on me?
What is it that pursues me and
won’t let me be satisfied,
or content. . .
you have been knocking at my door the last three days.
I don’t ask you in.
I never actually open the door,
but you are able to get in anyway–
through the keyhole, through the crack at the bottom,
like a winter wind come to chill me to the bone
and turn me into a fucking Ice Queen
who has no patience for the simple people
and their drivel
Be gone with you stupid peasants!!
Lest I turn you into ice statues!