The Singe

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Human beings are disgusting creatures.
By the apex of alien hills, sacred abodes sought to emanate newly shaped paradigms. A relentless reign prematurely assisted the interruption of symbiosis amongst cohorts and foreigners.
The guillotines were marshaled, disposed to decapitate virgins that desired to copulate unholingly.
Their blades were whetted as if to sever all burgeoning thistles once known, much like the earliest of misguided attempts to hinder the spring indefinitely.
In this kingdom, judgment was sheathed by the ignorance of a wicked people.
The ones empowered by gods could not have been seen as the culprits.
In this land, the fiends were not supernatural, but mortal architects knew well to manipulate and incriminate the abstract.
There were no quarters for selflessness in this new world.
Now watch as all the surfaces are scorched.
This is not the apocalypse your prophets admonished you of.
The branches wail as the flamboyant terebinths acquiesce to fiery torture.
In this hellish realm, affliction is replicated through the cracked eyeballs of the soon to be deceased.
The feet of man will no longer interpret the ground's arrays of simultaneous biotic emissions.
The ashes will garnish the soil in innocuous synchronization.