If only a mirror could see past the skin, through the meat and the bone, I might find the parasite that has made my body its home. Tear it out, rip it out of your frame with reckless abandon, 'fore your bones, brittle bones, hold but flesh in decay. With a shard of shattered self, I have found a way into this vermin's horrid domain. I have found a way. And as blood rushes the blade, and all colours fade, I commit this pyrrhic crime to destroy its source and mine. Bloody your hands! If I have to tear at every tendon to rid me of this leech, I'll bloody my hands! Thus my perdition ends. I have found a way. I lay hollow.