The faded line I walk is battered and decayed. With each step, the earth beneath me crumbles. The dust flies and the footprints behind are swept away. I was left adrift in these ruins. My skin is torn and my soul is broken. Prayers can be sent but never delivered in a land like this. They float weightlessly in the air above like my anxious cries for help. I whimper for something to hear me, but I stand alone in this vast landscape. Perhaps a result of my own doing, perhaps because of his stone-crusted heart. This void of isolation encapsulates me and my thoughts, trapping them within my mind. They ring from ear to ear searching for a way out. I feel slow, I feel weak. I feel the wrath of your storm and I fear I have yet to live through its peak. After days of mindless sprinting, I have been reduced to a walk, soon a crawl. I am searching for the soft red glow of an exit sign but I am starting to realize there is none. I feel my knees shake and my ankles start to bleed from the obstacles I have passed thus far. This rotted turf and its desolate conditions have stolen the best of me.