Pfp by naomiibloom_d on Instagram.

Stems of the non-tamable petals blow through the valley of wonder. Bolts grind in kind; to the vaults, which it kept secretiveness of glint. The machines were yearning for the sole avenger, yet to keep their plighted vows of returning. The cortege once again lit flames to what used to be cold, for it was burning the railway tracks to farther the execution of the ill-doomed man. What burns, doesn’t burn the slightest to the sinner, but to char at the demise of his own immorality. Once again the wind was blowing, and he was finally thrusted forward to be gashed near at the neck.