Fessula, the Will of the Tired

On a realm filled with with self-centered souls, who is there to take blame?

Not the rich, not the deserving,

Instead it's the poor, the forgotten, the broken characters who drown in the pool of the rotten.

Fear not, my listener, my mind of many voices, this world in my psyche does not judge for I am not the reaper...

I am just... The cold in our hearts.

No matter our fight, or how much we have suffered, no one will notice, just as none of us cry for aid.

We wish for help, we wish for change, and yet none happens as it can.

The cold catches the warmth in a cruel trap, glistening eyes of despair consuming the mind, reducing the will to fight.

Do not blame, however, no matter the need,

Keep those thoughts out of their mind and instead blame the imaginary guide.

Tracing our path, feeding the cold,

Creating thorns on the rocky and rugged road,

Such is the work of the imaginary guide, she who loves seeing suffering souls.

She is very real, very cautious and very false.

Hidden in a mantle, where none can her face see...

One hand carries a compass to mislead your path, the other carries a scythe, to reap it far, far away from your warm bed.

Some call her death, others call her fate, but for me she is merely a pest, one that invades my mind and does not move astray.

No matter how fictional she may be, all of us let her in.

Some longer, others shorter, maybe sooner or later than they expect, but none of her words shall her victims forget:

— You have grown tired. — Her chilling words are certain, everyone summons their guide with such feelings, but only a few part ways.

This is my dear friend, the one who shall bring me to my deathbed, the cold witch whom I let enter my mind, granting a name and a forever life, Fessula.

She shall never leave, but her will, as wicked as it may be, will keep on spreading...

Be cautious, tired soul, you may be next. Perhaps one of her sisters has already invaded, and now you have yet to rest.

Know she exists, know her doings,

Better hide yourself, however, for there is no exit from this exhausting being.