I spend my last day on earth enjoying the last bit of beauty it has to offer. Sitting in the sunlight as the final nails are hammered into my coffin. I accept my fate of damnation. I await it with anticipation. The crows perch on the trees above, as if they could preconceive the spilling of my blood. When I look into their faces. I see the empty spaces. The crows tore out their eyes. Torn out before they could die. My father had prepared a place for me. Nailed to the wood of a rotting tree. My father had prepared a place for me. My father had prepared a place for me. Placed upon my head. A crown of thorns. All hail the king of the dead. The fury of god strikes down upon the earth. Marking the beginning of the planet's rebirth.