I can't hardly stand the smell.
It's been like this for days. Worse and worse, every day. It won't go away.
It sits there, beckoning.
That sickening shade of green, the sickening smell of decaying plant matter, the sickening sound of all of its voices saying,
"let's play a game!".
They are too cheerful. This is not the time.
I go about, living my life, I never asked for any of this! But the others, they aren't cursed in the way I am. They cannot hear the voices at all. They are immune.
I wish I were like them. But wishing won't change anything.
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the broccoli
الخوارقit is there it is sitting it is waiting for you. "let's play a game," it says. will you accept?
