Marked like a wounded animal leaving bloodstains on snow, about to be flushed from a thicket toward a bloody end.

Left abandoned and scorned,
In a world no longer real,
No longer my own.

I lived my life my way and yet,
the choice to die my way..
has been stolen from me.

The cold, clawlike hands wrap around my throat, squeezing, suffocating the life from my body. Dizziness. Terror. Death.
My only control is to extend my neck to the guillotine, my silent rebellion nothing more than whispers in passing.
The only sound...