I've wandered for days,
aimlessly bound.
Sown by my feet to a cold, murky ground.
My head, unexpectedly fell to the floor
a puddle was made from the blood that did pour
endlessly as if I was ******
to eternal hell,
being a conscious clump of cells.
Embalm me as I am.
Never more will I fail
to prove this life isn't just a fabrication.
Assimilation of this so called nation of the ******.

Is this just a laboratory setting?
Are we subject to an observers meddling?