I am on my knees in the midst of the black forest. I pray for the dawn to come. I pray for the stars to shine. Those who bring a plague. Those who spit diseases. Now I belong to them.
The cold stones. I have lost my path. The needle fingers stick into my veins.
Vertigo. A falling and fear. The heavy burden felt on my back. My skin is torn. The idols are colored in bloody red. The madness. The leaden air.
The cold stones. I have lost my path. The needle fingers stick into my veins.
Was I born to suffer? Was I born to die? Will I be broken by the idols or will I stay alive?