How'd I die like this? How did I so expire? There will be no more flowers for me, unless they grace my thankless grave. Curses upon them! So close above me, and me without the energy to so much as graze them with my hand!
I am lost now. What shall I do? My eyes are wide with the fright of the situation, but I seem to enjoy the hellish sight. There's no point in this. Do you not hear me? There's no point! Let it be, all ready!
Oh, I see. Oh, yes. Not my fault - these things never are - but the end result is the same, regardless of my involvement or lack thereof. Nothing I can do, nor anything I could have done.
What a cold, bloodless charade. You'll conform yourself to the standards until your existence is shattered and you're too broken to even try. You're fallen at the feet of my bad news and everyone - everyone! - stops and stares at the spectacle. This cannot be! It simply cannot!
I can't do this! Not without you - not without Nobody Special. No more flowers for me- they've fallen from my broken, shattered hand and there they lay - scattered across my grave. I am forever lost and I shall not be found until I am fixed again.
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