by Nick Gisburne
Be seated, in the place our priests prepared.
Be seated, in the sanctum others shun.
Be certain, if you cannot be repaired,
The fabric of your flesh will be undone.
Perfection is the measure we demand.
Perfection leaves no margin for mistake.
Permit us, please, to make you understand
Our standards for acceptance will not break.
Unfortunate. You failed to make the grade.
Unfortunate. There is no second chance.
Inferior genetics have betrayed
The body you were anxious to advance.
Our protocols demand we must delete
All patients we are powerless to treat.
