I haven't see the sunlight in years. It's so cold down here. The stirrings nearby invoke only fear. I feel so lonely, unable to decipher the foreign tongues I hear. I used to be a generation’s only hope. Forging ahead discovering frontiers. Had I any choice that fateful day, I’d be pardoned from eternity. What can I do? What can I do now? The trails we blazed now awash in haze. A liaison to the lost souls seeking asylum from their woes. The purpose woven into my bones, no more, no more, no more. Condemned to my watery grave.