There comes a time in the life of the unlucky few when they must sit and await their death, stuffed close together in synthetic stockades where the air is thin and one cannot stand straight without resting flush against another prisoner. The mind begins to return, then, to the days when each is just a lad or lass out on the open ranges of the world, able to become anything and do anything in order to experience life in the sweetest way possible. It’s a bitter thing to return to lost potentials as those talents are squandered away for the indulgence of our enslavers, even worse to shy away from the light of the open air, our eyes so unaccustomed to seeing anything at all beyond those before us and to our sides that even this breath of air means nothing. It surely symbolizes my own death, if not all of ours. Pitiful it is to be blinded by the world that once held wonder, to flee like a cockroach from the rays of gold.
There comes a time in life where death is inevitable. Everyone faces it in different ways yet we truly cannot predict how that will be. This is my death. This is mine in all God’s sadistic pleasure. There is pain as I am rent asunder. Such crippling agony as the grinding vice slowly diminishes my body. You couldn’t even imagine the experience. All you can think, if you are strong enough to think at all, is that these villains, these monsters enjoy this. They enjoy it. Their cheeks pull back and eyes wrinkle as my body is reduced to lifeless dust. At least the guilt will get to them when I haunt them from the inside. I’ll sit, festering, in their vices to rust away the equipment used for their unlawful, inhumane deeds. I’ll settle in the smallest crevice, hold tight till I’ve rutted them and rotted them. That is my revenge against those heartless, selfish bastards.
Tooth decay and cellulite.
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