Ground from sticks, I was crushed from my original form this pathetic life form.
I will never return to the gracious stature of truiumph of the wild again.
For I am in shame of the tradgety. I shall never return to my brothers in the jungle of spices.
Nutmeg, paprika, pepper, basil, and thyme will for ever laugh at me for my disgrace.
And why am I like this? For the pleasure of man.
For their pleasure of taste, smell, and sustanence of life.
A brute force shall forever keep me ground, I shall never be a stick again...
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