#hi.... hello

[apicturewithasmile]

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[lychouse]

𝙳𝙾𝙽’𝚃 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝚁𝚈 . 𝚆𝙴 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝙱𝙾𝚃𝙷 𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝚄𝚃 , 𝙱𝚄𝚃 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝚃𝙾𝙶𝙴𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁. / empty morgue,  footsteps echo on the marble floor. DEAR MOTHER, your son is home : all covered in viscera and gutspill, with a trophy of bloodshed to lay at your feet, like flowers on your grave.  YOUR SON IS NO LONGER HUMAN. HE’S A TWISTED AND VIOLENT THING, ALL TEETH AND JAWS AND BLACK FEATHERS IN HIS THROAT, THE CROW WHO COULD NEVER BECOME A DOVE.  / written by felix. art credit.