A WARNING FROM THE MEEK

A WARNING FROM THE MEEK
Sharpen your Tomahawks; lace up your boots and turn on your war machines. A hurricane of spleen and bone is coming, with tortured souls of fury at the head.
You’ve built faulty systems to repair your faulty systems; nothing you’ve conceived ever manifested into anything before it turned to dust and blood. Your numbers are wrong, the calculations have handicapped other systems and they’re really quite fucking angry about it. Haven’t you ever wondered why in all the prayers in all the world there isn’t any that don’t ask for something?

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