This is a work that I have worked hard on, and it is not a mainstream work. There are many settings inside, so you need to be patient to watch them. It is full of war and bloodshed. I don't know if I can survive my current writing state, but my words don't cross the algorithm, they only cut down the temple. The gallows in the mainstream sky is full of best-selling corpses, but I choose to gouge out the heart and condense every drop of blood into the stardust of the final blade - pierce the traffic monument and bury all the compromised souls. Readings are the executioner's counting card, and subscription coins are the temple's indulgences. If you hear a soul coughing on a heavy metal hospital bed, pick up this piece, it's sharp enough to cut through hell. It is all the poets who cannot kill the temple who will eventually make the flowers of hell bloom in the ruins of data. When your knife breaks, the origin of the new universe arrives.
