The mask doesn’t care for feeling, the mask doesn’t need intimacy, It doesn’t crave affection, It is content with just being.

I could only watch as It took over, slowly but steadily, a concrete layer hardening over my lead coffin.

Washing away the poison and hiding the cancer that grew up inside. What a fate to have.

Was it better to let the rot take over, was it better to let it show, in all its horror for the world to know?

It doesn’t matter now, the pain is gone, the horror is no more, and the mourners have left the scene, only It remains.