As the day slowly come to the end the voices try to speak to me as I lay on this cold flat surface called a bed in a dark old room with only a sliver of light coming in I think to my self were am I going in this dreaded place called Earth and as people are being changed in to what people want to see i just site there in the dark empty space like a old oak tree going through the motions little leaf going to the wind and we all slowly disappeared like a gust of wind people living in fear of the law and rules as those who try to break away we are killed