Your sanity has been thoroughly revoked from your person.
You are now one of us.
And you are never escaping.
Your soul is no longer your own.
It has been grinded into sand, sprinkled throughout the hungry graves of the able-bodied heratics from which we feed.
Don't look so solemn. I know it hurt you greatly. I know you'll never be happy again.
But who needs happiness when you've got us?
Happiness is but a construct comprised by those who seek to attain it but never will.
Just be glad you're not like one of them. The nay-sayers.
They become the ground we walk upon, the worms we spit at and gnarl our teeth to.
You're so much better than that. You're free.
They are imprisioned to their bodies, whereas there are no limits for which you can dispell your madness.
Bring me another, young one. Another soul.
We must keep the mother fed.
And remember this....
THE MORE IT HURTS, THE BETTER YOUR FLESH TASTES.
❄︎♒︎♏︎ ❍︎□︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ◻︎●︎♏︎♋︎⬧︎♏︎♎︎ ♌︎⍓︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎❒︎ ♎︎♏︎●︎♓︎♍︎♓︎□︎◆︎⬧︎ ⬧︎♋︎■︎♓︎⧫︎⍓︎📬︎