Looking in the eyes of those who are about to die, I cry. In every inch of my body I feel the(ir) horror. If only I was able to feel rage, this madness could end. However, shame and guilt were imposed upon me. So, instead of rage, I cry for those who are facing the end. Their cruel death is at the hands of those who forced them into this world. I cry softly. That’s all I am able to do.