Throughout history lives have been cheap. Technology and medical advancements have tricked us into thinking this has changed. Its a thin veneer on the truth. Life is still cheap. Taken by madness or madmen. Stolen by chance or accident. Circumstance. We are born soaked in our own demise until slowly or suddenly it seeps in and takes over. We are resplendent in decay. Our flesh is a cloak. They’ll hand me a jar of your bones. Transaction complete. I’ll sit you on a shelf next to my father and my grandfather and I’ll call upon the blood of my grandmother and her mother and her mother’s mother to keep me whole. Two hundred years of misery shaped us. I have been brought low, but not undone


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