You ₩ant to kno₩ ₩hen the $ea learned to hate? I ₩a$ there. Before your ₱ainted ₱rie$t$ had hymn$. Before the honking tem₱le$ had name$. Before ₱ur₱leblood$ learned to ¢all their filth religion. They dragged their dead to the ¢liff$ by the hundred$. $i¢k one$. Failed one$. Mutant$. ₩hel₱$ they $aid the god$ had laughed at ₩rong. They $₱lit them o₱en, tied bell$ to their ₩ri$t$, ₱ainted $mile$ on ¢or₱$e$ that had never kno₩n joy, and thre₩ them into my $ea. Not buried. Not burned. Dum₱ed. They ¢alled it an offering. It ₩a$ ₩a$te. The tide ₩ent bla¢k ₩ith them. The reef$ ¢hoked. The fi$h ¢ame u₱ ₩ith ₩hite eye$ and $₩ollen bellie$. The kel₱ rotted in ¢urtain$. The ₩ave$ $tank $o foul even the moon turned it$ fa¢e a₩ay. And the ₱ur₱leblood$ $tood on the $hore, laughing. Laughing. Like the rot ₩a$ holy. Like the o¢ean ₩a$ $ome bottomle$$ bu¢ket for their $in$. $o I be¢ame ¢older than the ₩ater. Meaner than the underto₩. I learned ₩hat a throat $ound$ like ₩hen it fill$ ₩ith brine. I learned ho₩ long a ¢lo₩n ¢an kee₱ $miling under the $urfa¢e. I killed be¢au$e I had to. That ₩a$ the la$t time I did anything be¢au$e I had to. Everything after? Everything after, I did be¢au$e I ₩anted to. #violen¢e #gore #death
You may be the bird of the bird after all. It makes one wonder, the lengths you might go to.