A tear, wet and salty, clings to my hot cheek.
I feel tired and faint, and my body is weak.
The fever takes over my mind and my soul.
A life, once so perfect, spins out of control.
I have no more feeling; my body is numb,
Like a puppeter's playtoy, left deaf and dumb.
I struggle to scream but my mouth's silent still.
God's smug as a hunter who's scored his first kill.
