The world will burn.

Because of Him.

But I don’t care.

I’m numb. It would be a relief to feel something other than the depths of my grief.

The aching echos of memories of loved ones etched into nightmares. Awakening every night, screaming in anguished terror, stretching fingertips out towards a delicate, gentle phantom, always just out of reach to touch, yet unable to be banished.

“Stay with me!” I plead, desperately, hoping.

But the phantom passes gracefully, elegantly by, seemingly without a care in the world.

My anguish turns to pure rage.

“Why did you leave me?” I screech like a banshee.

Deep, hollow, sorrowful eyes stare blankly through me, as if not caring that I was there.

“Just go then! Leave me be! Get out!”

My hands throw innocent objects at the wall, each one with more force than the last, trying with all my might to pierce the energy of that being.

He isn’t the same.

It’s not ‘him’.

How could it be? He couldn’t just leave then watch me suffer in this pain.

No.

This isn’t ‘him’.

This is the devil Himself.

I will avenge ‘him’. My, ‘him’.

That imposter will feel my wrath.

I will banish Him!

And the world will feel my pain.

Because of me!

I do care!

I feel everything.

So, the world will burn!