You have taken my bones, yet charge me with the crime—then laugh at me because I walk funny; failing to mention the extraordinary willpower I exercise in order to walk without bones—
Then, you want me to forgive you, after these biological predeterminates prey on your conscience, for your psychological crimes—my response—
BURN IN HELL—
Crippled, undaunted to the bitter end, willful, prodigious—I will become a bird—a genetic bird—
You are an aspic—
There are absolutes of which your kind always fails to understand—there are circumstances that are irredeemable for the victims of those circumstances and the crimes of the perpetrators can only be remonstrated through the shedding of
Their blood—
Your blood—
There has never been a judge who wasn’t guilty of judging—there never was a teacher who didn’t sacrifice her students—
There is no world without oppression and only the crippled possesses any notion of truth at all—
But admittedly there is Progress of Events—one day the tortured will become large winged birds, they will seek their prey—
Illimitable justice at the End of Everything—
The wounded are about to take flight.