How bittersweet am I. To witness the last breaths of a soul, and to be the one to breathe it in. I hear the most sincere prayers, more earnest pleading to God than most churches can testify for. I have been the cause for a mother's mourning, a lover's sorrow. I take the lives of even the unborn; the poor unfortuante sould whose eyes have never had the grace to comprehend light. I have been the one to hold back heartache as a young boy's misery rings out in sobs between the trees of a forsaken forest. Watching a grandmother sleep, while her soul slipped out with her slowing breath. I have been cursed, hates- But never sympathized. I am viewed as a sadist. It is assumed that this is enjoyable for me. When in reality, I have always felt hallow. To watch a life born, only to know I will later take it away. To watch a couple kiss in bliss, to know I will tear them apart from their lover. No one knows that I whisper my most honest apologies as I hold a soul in my hands. No one understands how alone I am; how much I yearn for interaction. To pet a dog, without it writhing in pain. To sit down and discuss the works of Hemmingway and the depressing disposition of Poe.

To

Be

Loved

But it is hard to love such a thing that takes away someone so dear, and I understand that. And this is why I forgive, why I sit back and only do what I must. I envision what it must feel like to be loved so intensely. That if i died, someone would sob over me.