your hope collapsed like a burning orphanage under the   weight of their expectations it must seem routine for   you now snowing in their spit languishing in their   refuse a human/virus a victim of disease called   circumstance their real faces are the faces of disgust   the only kind you see from down here here there is no   healing only the slowing of decay i've heard they   still smile in their world perhaps you will go there   someday and destroy their happiness