I am the rat that escaped from all of these
Bottled diseases. The flash eating organisms that have wasted the others.
But I was unable to escape the memories, the scars,
And the aftermath. I still have the sickness; the antibiotic did not complete
It's process of healing. The caress of chemicals
Inside of my bloodstream did not satisfy the lust for life I had always suffered through.

Never have I seen a light other than the fluorescents hanging above the steel table
As they dissected my friends. They only ones I have ever seen alive.
The factory settings of their decomposition have been restarted and they erode as if
Made of dust. They basically are at this point.

The rustling of papers sickens me, recording everything the scientists see; they study us
Under a microscope. They smell of rust and sawdust, old and crippled. Cruel.
They keep us in glass boxes and torture us with everything we fear.