This is the seed of sorrow. This is it unfolding. This is my life. This is my six percent pseudo life. I can't escape from these restrictions. Blood dries. This process enslaves us. Now as I watch the world turn red through these barbed-wired eyes. Bleeding as a child can't keep this from coming back. I don't know what hurts worse. The thought of dying or the thought of living my life like this. Now i see that this sickness belongs to me. Why can't you hear me? Why can't you feel me? Why can't you love what you can not see? What's inside of me.