“Mercy…mercy…mercy…mercy I only offered her a cup of water for the sake of nature, for the sake of mercy I am not sick, that’s only a superstition. The last to die of it was in my mother’s time Everybody dies in shame which they find impossible to endure, but not me. I die because of mercy. They only keep me here because I show mercy. They say I summon the fattest rats, the grandest ol’ emperors of rats, but that’s because they are lowly hungry slobs and I show them mercy. To be the daughter of god is to be the mother of rats, to be the greatest gift giver, holding back nothing but the deluge of doubt which runs away from the lord like rabbits from barking dogs, the lord who gives gifts because she must. But what is this key good for now that doors become locked at the mere mention of it? My right to salvation tricked away from me, tricked from under my nose, I’ve been tricked into being too kind—the lord of darkness is the lord of kindness, the lord of words is the lord that lies. Who will take the same dumb risk and sneak me heaven? In who’s pocket? Under who’s shadow? Only rats are kind enough to carry me in morsels to the land that promised. It is better to be rat-vomit than rape-fodder. Mercy… mercy … mercy …mercy …who remembers me?