razors. My angel, this knife shall carve thee wings. Consumed by sickness, I ache to see your blood. The hour approaches, when I shall lay a nest
I crawl, losing you. Over something so frivolous, so petty. But this pettiness is all you know. You wear a chip on your shoulder like a badge of fucking pride. A
stalk amongst the feeble mortals in the clothing of a sheep. Envenomed, I am the blackest incarnation. The end of their disease. On my arrival, vengeance swings a