Saturday, July 3, 2010
My body is sick; it is dying. This flesh screams weakness and my bones refuse to support me. My organs are failing, my insides rotting. Why has God given (cursed) me with such a disgusting shell? Sin has plagued this body and the only relief is death. My own heart can't even pump enough blood to reach the end of my fingers, the end of my toes, the end of my nose. This cycle of blood is over, my body is too tired, and I shall return to the dust from whence I came. It is over.