Pain is my legacy and I thrive on the agony that plagues me every waking day. My calm is in the night, in the darkness when my eyes barely close because my sleep is shallow. My dreams are weighing heavily on the damaged nerves inside my skull, for they can awaken me and kill the dream at any moment. Without warning, coughing upon my first moments consciousness, searching for saliva that is as rare as a river in the desert brimming with aquatic monsters and pirates. The voice is a result of the drought, the burning, the suffering is embedded in the throat scorched by radiation. The pain is real. The Voice is real. I will make you feel my anguish, for I will not let it be in vain.