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Hourglass

I've never liked children. I never really knew why; I have seen them so many times.

I decided to contemplate it for a while.

I think it stems down to innocence; not that I'm jealous of their innocence, but rather that I pity them for it. Children are full of potential. They could grow up to be anything they want, until life sets in, and society crushes their spirits; their dreams become splintered, their hopes broken into shards.

At a young age, they're encouraged to be individuals, to be unique, march to the beat of their own drum. Then, as they get older, they're told to be a "team player" or basically, "another cog in the machine that is society." And those who don't submit get left behind, shunned for not trying to subvert their true selves. They're the ones I tend to see sooner than they would expect.

I'd say it'd be easier if the elders would be upfront about these things, and not feed them false delusions, but I can't back that up. I think they give them these lies so they don't give up so easily.

When I look at children, I see disappointment and anguish. Obviously not at that present moment, but rather, their reaction when social protocol dictates they abandon their identity.

Now, I understand that people's lives never turn out the way they thought it would. That doesn't bother me, in fact, at this point I feel it should be anticipated. I just think they shouldn't be left with these delusions about destiny.

It's strange that one would pity such a small creature, but I suppose I just have a soft spot for the blind and weak.

When people see me, they often think of me as melancholy and depression. They think I don't like my job, and that I'd rather switch to a different path. They're right; I'm rather sullen, but not because of the job I do. Rather, it is the feeling I get when I meet people while doing my job. I just see the disappointment in their eyes, yet, there is little I can do to help them. I've tried consoling them, easing the disappointment of the path they chose, but it never seems to work.

I see children grow into adults, where they become depressed and broken. When they do meet me, they usually have little to say. It's always, "I need to get something done" or "I'm not quite ready." It's hard when I look into their eyes as they say, "Azrael, can't I just have a little more time?"

It makes me shed a tear or two, sigh and lower my scythe.

No matter how much I pity them, seeing their lives go unfulfilled, I always have to say:

"No."

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