Resting my weary eyes into the streets, what could I possibly see? Lo and hehold, strange drawings and glaring holes on the bodies of my fellow men.
But why would they do something like this? Maybe it is due to their dissatisfaction of the bodies given to them.
If there was a lord who would gaze upon these modifications on the works that he deemed perfect gifts to his children, would it pain thy heart?
And what if their parents? Would it not be equally painful for them?
Questions that appear upon these sights... What would the difference be between vandalism on artwork and what has happened to my brothers?
Perhaps we may not be tied by blood, but it still pains me to know of this. For no man is an island, and these bonds are but enough for me to relate to them.
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