The man's face contorts into a new shape that resembles concern. He has delivered the same news a hundred times and it grows less compassionate with each new played out telling. The form before him disgusts him, and the noise comes from a place of complete disdain. These words spill from him now..."This could kill you" God, what have I done to deserve this new plague that won't leave me? (These holes through the core of me) What was a dull ache now could be the death of me What was once a dull ache, these holes through the core of me, could gradually become the death of me.