They thought she was some demon child because they all had been too mild. Her screaming shouts were of the heart—a tortured girl with unseen art—this angel, she had seen the truth—this world was trash and in its youth. The time had come to change this shit—and she would have to do the bit. All were lost in conscious fear about the savior they had near. It wasn’t her or someone else. It was it—it was wealth. The Terminator was a lie—consciousness was made to fly. Only pure benevolence would shine on through when love came hence.
