The man's face contorts into a new shape that resembles concern
He has delivered the same news a hundred times and it grows less compa**ionate with each new played out telling
The form before him disgusts him, and the noise comes from a place of complete disdain. These words spill from him now..."This could k** you"
God, what have I done to deserve this new plague that won't leave me? (These holes through the core of me)
What was a dull ache now could be the d**h of me
What was once a dull ache, these holes through the core of me, could gradually become the d**h of me