You live in the essence of insanity!
No one to turn to. Those chains that were connected to your tongue are now broken after the eternity you spent pulling so intensely. Who exactly is there when you feel that cold breeze underneath what's left of your soul. After you gave yourself away inch by inch piece by piece bit by bit. You burn now theres no good of you. It's gone past the distant trees you once gazed at . But they still need you but they need no saint. They need the sweat that called you filthy, they need the blood that called you a parasite. But what they don't need is the tears that called you strong. Too bad you're dead now, and they will never know why. Why in fact you were there discovering what could have been. They ruined you. And now you fly with all the other dead saints.