I speak in verses, prophecies, and curses – Otep Shamaya

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The Vermilion Queen comes to those who do not believe. She talks to those who do as old friends and compliments them on the openness of their minds. Her visage never changes to those who understand that She is an intangible abstract. A theoretical metaphor, a whisper in a screaming field of shrieking children. She is where your shadow goes in the noonday sun and the absence of warmth when the full moon rides high in the sky and the wolves bay their mournful worship. No one speaks of Her, everyone thinks of Her. Everyone knows Her, no one knows Her true name. They do violence in Her name and scream at other pacifists to do the same so that She is honored. Never once will the truth be discovered because a lie is the aberration of the standard morality of a deviant society claiming to be altruistic.

The Tarot will dance around you and when the Ten of Swords draws itself over and you leak like a metal colander, know that all you needed to do was believe in Her, or at least do Her the kindness of lying to everyone you knew about believing in Her, you like to them about everything else, why wouldn’t you just keep up a trending behavior? Can you not simply not just babble in incessantly about the wonder of the Circus as your death screams ricochet off of walls made by your malevolence and avarice of spirit?

Judge me not for seeking to find Her in the wastelands of what you left me to work with. I am not the one who deceives everyone by trying to fit the camel through the eye of a needle smaller than the eye can see. I am not the one who discards that which should HAVE BEEN HELD THE TIGHTEST to their bosom. No, I am the one who will search for Her, who will wander until the end of the world to see if I can find a hint of a rumor of the legend of the myth of Her. You will stop your shuffling soon and drop into the perdition you set up for yourself so long ago that you think it preordained by a King that has not been ruling since long before the Queen or the filth of you, was even a distant hope in a twinkling eye.

So as I sit for a moment to catch my breath and refill the blood of my heart with the fight that it needs to continue, you will be aimless, hopeless, heartless and worthless and that will make the job of the Queen so much easier.

Expect Her soon, fool. So very soon.

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