And then, in his most hopeless, disguised state, he wishperes to himself " I'm a survivor", chills went down to his bones, this sense, a new force of power, it arose in him, like a crawling reptile climbing up his back, grasping the slippery flesh, and imprinting it's claws deep into his ribs. But he arose, all he saw around him was his suppresses. His advesaries. One would say, who is this man? The hated, the last, the forgotten. Why would such be even created, let alone survive this long. Yet to him, to him the surrondings were a reason, a reason why he should excell. His enemies, they propelled him further, the quest for survival had dawned upon him, and he lifted up, like a wild beast squeling out its battle cry with its last breath, he grabbed the front of his shirt, with a firm grip he pulled, pulled until the seems let loose, and it tore off him. Like a gorilla preparing for battle, he yelled, "IM A SURVIVOR"
They heard a cloud of sounds, sounds that were filled with weakness, yet such courge such desperacy. They thought to themselves, could it be, one more powerful could exist, in one that is so weakly and poorly made?*
Yes, alas, the survivor will survivor, the prey will disease. Long live. Long live. ~survivor.*
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