Fire made flesh. Renounce the throne. Screams split the sky. Fall to the sea. My heart has been reshaped in flames of treachery, bent beneath the hammering blows of alienation. It's now a dark thing of iron resolve and unyielding hatred. Grinding my teeth in contempt... Free will made flesh. Renounce the divine. With black sword in hand, my steps carry me back to my tormentors. I realize all the grim sternness of my own cold building with its wealth of breathing misery and my own desolate heart to endure it all. But it is the curse of greatness that it must step over dead bodies to create new life. And now there is change. The serpent has turned its head to strike its master. Those suffocating under dominion have broken their chains. Privilege destroyed. Wealth ground to dust. Power laid to waste. Grinding teeth in contempt, with black swords in hand, stepping over dead bodies, and creating new life.
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