Guilt lives in a small cottage,
Secluded, and hidden away.
Her curtains are closed,
And the door is locked.
She is inverted and reserved,
But she is cold, icy, slick and unloved,
Capable of everlasting pain.

Like a snake, people say,
She will linger by your side,
Slowly mingling with your thoughts and feelings,
Slithering,
Pressuring and paining your dismal heart.
Her venom tastes bitter; sometimes too painful to bear.

She is an evil thing, or so it seems,
But she has a purpose,
And she is steadfast.

She is the savior of friendships,
Of relationships,
Of lifelong troubles.
She accompanies you on your journey,
Giving you advice,
Persuading you to make peace.
She will not leave until amends have been made,
And your hopes have been restored.

In her icy glare and cold, saddening eyes,
Lies a spirit,
A small child, never truly loved, and influenced by a difficult past
And a beautiful woman, out to save the world from misery,
Because of her own ‘guilt’.

And in those eyes,


The last flame of happiness still remains,
And as people have noted,
She uses every ounce of its magic,
To make everything;
The pain and hardships she has stirred along the journey,





Right again.

So when her job is done,
Her duty is fulfilled,
And you are blissful,
She packs her bags,
And departs without another word,
But leaves you with a little friend of hers,
Happiness.