At the peak of your plight

     with sceptre in hand

     spectres howling beneath your feet

I hope you recognise your folly

I hope your spindly hands

     harbour nothing but your unattested desires

     your wealth windling around your neck

I hope by that time

With a quiet solace soliciting your thoughts

Apathy running down your cheeks

     as crocodile tears

Your weapons of warfare will wilt

Not even the asters accepting your gaze

There is a richness in your skin but further

     the richness in the River Styx

So maybe then,

     while your mind falters within waves

You will recognise your gluttony

Recognise your reckoning

And I pray to every God

     that has glimpsed the heavens

That you recognise that you are

     nothing more

     than mortal blood and dilating veins

Aryah Jamil is mediocre at everything except laughing at her own jokes. Tell her to stop talking at jamil.aryah@gmail.com