It's dark in here. At least it's warm. Don't exactly remember how I got in here.
That's okay, I guess. Probably don't have anywhere important to be. Never really did. That's my own fault, of course. Always running from responsibility. Maybe this is my punishment.
Makes me think of that time when that one woman came to me begging for the life of her son. Classic. It's always the mothers who are most tearful. Not even lovers plead as distraught. Funny that. Always thought romance was what made humans do anything. The ever present fear of dying alone, or some-such.
But it's always the mothers who mourn hardest and longest. Odd. They already have a husband. And why do the husbands not morn as much. Too proud, I suppose.
I always was a terrible god. My fellows never liked me much. No one really ever did. So what do I owe them? Nothing. People only ever gave my excuses, and my fellows only ever scorn. I care not. I'm content to remain in whatever prison this is. Or maybe I could escape if I wished? I care not.
No, I care not.