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so you want to undo the horrors? spare the lives? weave the futures? it's a miserable sacrifice. all desire that drives a soul into this place is wretched, hearts twisted and minds lucid, that or the other way round. you naive, aimless Orpheus. why come? you say to restore the chance? the option of getting out was never there. and your violin got all drenched. can't play the fiddle if it's rotten. can't put me to sleep with all this hatred keeping me awake. why do you keep talking to me? most scream when i take their bodies by force, aren't my rosebushes slicing you open? love, as if i'd take your offering. my vines will eat your eyes. i get nothing out of your sweet promise of music, lovely as its thought might be. delicate as the poem of a dying heart can grow. God, it's rare. it's rare. You do sing delightfully.