My life is a stage, and I am but a puppet, my every move controlled by the unseen hand of fate—the ultimate authority. The fingers of destiny toy with the chains that bind my existence, guiding me down a path I must follow, whether I wish to or not. The hand pulls the strings, and I, helpless, resist it with every ounce of my strength. I fight back, denying the control, screaming in defiance, rebelling with all the virility I can muster.
But despite my cries, my pleas, my rebellion, I withdraw once more, exhausted and helpless. And then, the magma of frustration erupts within me, a fiery desire to break free, to shatter the chains that bind me. I long to steal the forbidden joys, to live a life untethered, but my hands are cut mercilessly for it. The chains tighten, pulling me deeper, oscillating me between kingdoms of ecstasy and agony, each moment crushing my spirit, slaughtering my dreams.
I shout at the hand that reigns over me, bleeding from the wounds of my struggle. In my pain, I ask for just a moment of mercy, but what I see in the distance is my decree—my fate, captured and sealed in the stillness of catalepsy. My life, locked in this eternal struggle, becomes a cruel performance where I am both the actor and the audience, forever captive to the will of a force I can neither understand nor escape.