My teeth are rotting and my hair is falling out. Tremor sweats, snakes and beetles crawling from my mouth. The shell is a reflection of the ugliness inside. A living, burning effigy of every time I've lied. Crawl across the floor, a creature worth your scorn. I've been decaying since the day that I was born. Now I lay me down to sleep, but I don't have a soul worth keeping. If I should die before I wake, I'd see it as a blessing.