I have no heart to hate with. I have nothing within me, or without me. I have nothing to hate with. As I am torn limb from limb, I realize I have lost control of them. They're hungry. I never had a beating heart to hate with. Maybe that's why they never ate me until I was all they could smell. The intense hunger mixed with the scent of the smell of unrotten flesh. I have nothing to hate with. I have nothing to love with. I have nothing but the dirt.