#the imagery of the metal flesh being reduced to a bow in a caricature of mock servitude reminiscent of its followers before it
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the fall of giants and gods are rarely non-cataclysmic, but between the space, and millenias, spent in its death and subsequent fall, outlines of angels and prior forms may be glimpsed at occasionaly, without one joining the madness.
like the splitting of limb from body. its rendered ethereal forms, all scream againsts the seams; bloody. thrashing. roiling. like an apple dropped from the tree. its slow creaking, of forced subjugation heralds the response; decaying. recoiling. unbecome. dying. but not /quite/ dead
it might then best be described, by the inherent beauty of all things. in its death there is grace, in its fall there is art, and, in its eternal rest there is life.
#writing#writblr#idk theres room for improvement for sure. like some parts don't roll off the tongue too well#and unless you're reading it from my particular viewpoint it might not make sense. but im somewhat proud of it#something about the original post#the imagery of the metal flesh being reduced to a bow in a caricature of mock servitude reminiscent of its followers before it#bought out the religious trauma and the yearning for inhuman humaness#of metal flesh and unfolding carapaces#of soft wires and confounding forms#or something idk im hungry gbye#marziemoos#w p
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