And
he screams
he
sees he is useless
he
can't complain nor show any weakness
he is torn to pieces
he is torn to pieces
he
doesn't know what to do
what
is next
he
is broken in many ways
he
is silent
an
aimless fist with nothing to punch
a
child, senseless, voiceless, mindless, no will, no desires
he
has no desires for anything
because
even those are stripped away
his
future is lame
his
touch
his presence is death
his presence is death
he
screams!
From the mind of Cogliostro
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