Hatred, too pure

Hatred has many levels, many forms and to those who earn mine to the level one person has, a thing of cavernous Hell to which damnation seeks hollowing cries of mercy

Such devouring forces are not to be casually swept aside in callous fashion for within the fractures of rageful glare, to burn for an eternity would be a blessing when the true nature of what I wish to inflict shadows by miles

There is one saving respite for this wretchedly jagged imitation of a soul I so intently desire to inflict an infinity of divisive pain, that of the twisted countermeasure to balance my carnivorous potential for destruction in evils name
I am a good person

For now

“But once to poke and then again, this beast I keep will tear into my provocateurs flesh with merry fucking Hell, should the fool persist when eyes glow red and the blood doth flow”


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