It has no face.

It doesn't need one.

I know it is not friendly.

I feel it tighten around me.

It tugs on me, it binds me.

I am suffocated by its poison.

I am being consumed by its hate.

He does not hear me.

Nor does He want to see me.

I know He is tired of my constant excuses.

I am made from the dented pan called humanity.

I am not able to break the mold.

This curse I was given from my forefathers.

Imperfection will be the death of me.