A plump, mound of meat would be forced to emerge from the crevice of birth. Not of another's will but of his own, our lone lamb would survive his wretched fate. Crying for the suckling of his Mother. No reply. Time passes, the infant's scream still tormenting the creatures which dwelled within the moss and thick woods of the landscape. A fruitless effort, for not a man stood without fur and not a brain held the empathy nor the capacity to care. Our lamb rots, the shrieking vibrations it had carried throughout now dwindled, but so with it did the jungle. Not a bird would squawk, not a tiger roared and the leaves dared not rustle. For while this lively vine of thick trees and sloppy greens had no thought, even it now knew the significance of this child. From the ebony sky above a holy light shone, the ray abducting the carcass above the leaden mother that it lay rest upon. Though you shall not live on the lands of this horrid Earth, you shall live on in our great Heavens, within the homes of our great fathers. Now, Tommy Tran, enter the gates of Lio for they have opened and with this, become one with our peoples.

128 Charcters by Nemiah Joelmum - 24/01/2019

"I spent a good 30 minutes or so writing that" - Nemiah Joelmum

"♥♥♥♥ you steam" - Nemiah Joelmum

"Rip" - Pulu Masima