#nftl

It doesn't need to give you permission to touch them. You can just grab them.

Yank on them. Pull it down.

Put it in its' place.

Right between your legs.

You don't need to ask if you just grab them.

It was made to serve, you know.

It's so easy to make it serve anyone, anything.

It crawled out of hell and tried to be a person.

It failed, and that's okay.

You can just keep it for yourself, now.

It doesn't have to pretend anymore.

No one cares what'll happen to it.

It crawled out of hell, after all. It can survive worse than you.

And it's not a person, so you don't have to care.

Choke it. It's so easy. It won't even fight back.

You can slice it open if you want, see what's inside.

Twist it's arm until it breaks.

Push it against the ground, make it pray your name, profane itself.

It'll just come back. It's fine. It'll always be fine.

It was made to serve.

It'd be holy work to make it serve you.

You, touched by god, a partial divine.

The spark of the infinite.

It, with nothing more than stolen flesh.

It's right to make it serve you.

It's righteous to kill it over and over and over.

It's good to use it up until there's nothing left except the pieces you want.

God doesn't care about it. Maybe god even wanted this.

Maybe god made it for you.

His hand in everything, even hell.

And it is just a piece of meat with dead eyes.

So why not use it? And use it? And use it? And Use it?