His existance is a sin
His left arm is remarkably thin
His torso is built like a tank
But he has a heart of glass

He wishes he was dead
But they refuse to pull him out
Each time the heart rate monitor beeps
Nobody but the mutant weeps

Each beep is like a shockwave
It feels like sandpaper to his brain
He wants to sever himself from this machine
That causes him extreme pain

Trapped in the vanity of his form
He is enveloped in his misery
To serve as entertainment for his sadistic creators
Is the reason why he was born