My dear person, your life shall linger among the shadows and the decaying grounds, that penetrate your body and then your soul, with a slow bitterness founded by the Great Elders of your joyful, yet lonely home. While your footsteps become a vicious and nightly burden, while you build an unrealistic and strange life to give your heart a new chance, the dawn begins to cease, the nightfall turns into permanent darkness, however, you can still see the light, the people, the undesirable creatures that lived in the ancient world many long years ago. You are about to foresee the nature's pain, the roots that once made us who we are, the leafs that gave us all of eternity. But your knowledge finally realizes that our, ironically, humble society, is a burden for freedom. We are a locked and death burden.
Your life must linger, my dear person. You must heal the pain, the thriving pain, dramatically poisoning our souls. Our life should linger, my dear lady...
Here, with me, in this sicken world, you will dwell.