I saw the world die a little today. Just to feel the wealth of the decay. Just so you can know what it feels like, what tears taste like. We owe it all to the sickness inside. We owe it all to the fears we've learned to hide. We belong where traitors can touch the divine. Where the unforgiven can send us a sign. Was it the symptom or was it the sickness? Or was one last try our only weakness? Tears stinging down your cheek, drowning face first. A haven for the wretched, the cursed. Only the lonely. We belong where fires can seer this from our eyes.