Don’t push me in the dirt, I’ll make you regret every bit of blood you spilled. Those lies you told the congregation, like a library filled with dirty old books that no one reads anymore. I had a feeling it would come to this, can you feel the blade piercing your side as the pain sets in nice and slow. Slicing forward and true, you edged out in mere seconds from a pathway of malice. The air smells of death and Iron, like a clasp of steel tones creeping inside and yelling for help. You were a devil, yet still unwilling to favor in front of your sinful ways. Could there be any strongholds in your wake, making sure you could not pass through. I asked you once, you glanced in the opposite direction in swift danger.
Rebels Consciousness Founder Creator and Contributor
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