Unlike Michie, I deny not the presence of God. Instead, I wonder his purpose in my creation. Staring in the mirror at the girl who gazed right back, I let out a bitter laugh of cynicsm. What am I, but an instrument made by his supposedly loving hands solely for his entertainment? Does he get a kick out of tormenting me endlessly? Well, my compliments God. You've fufilled your goal and for that, Fuck You. They call Lucifer the fallen angel, what was he, but merely your accomplice whom you denounced to preserve your saintly image? You're the one orchestrating the show, we are pawns, puppets at your disposal. You had your fun, so when's enough enough for you?

Won't you let me off? Please. It's been 4 years. Isn't it time for you to turn your attention to another, or start doing some good for mankind, for this sea of bleeding humanity?

Or will you only rest easy when I'm on my deathbed? Tell me.


Don't look at me like that, cos you, You have the pair of saddest eyes in the world.


And is the poignant image I potray a fault of mine? The haunted eyes emanating inexplicable sorrow, the mouth twisted in a caustic grimace, the perpetual expression of long suffering morose?

Look at me. Look what you've done to me, then answer me with whatever conscience you have left in your heart, if I can still call it a heart.