we are all faggots my son
we do not attend our execution, we go into hiding in the forest, where those with Master Morality may govern themselves, and where you dare not venture for you'd surely die, lost inside a winding maze of prickling nightshade, where even the water would send you into a mad delerium; you would not be able to tell whether you had your eyes open or shut as you looked at your surroundings, and surely this would intensify as you began starving to death and attempted to eat nightshade berries. Your death would be a door bell, your screams of terror in the distance letting us know a city dweller tried to enter our domain
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04-11-2015
Last edited by Plug Drugs; 04-11-2015 at 03:08 PM.
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