snuff raze there's something quietly_devastating about an insect you intend to kill to curtail an infestation alighting on your fabric-shrouded leg as if they think a softer part of you might spare them or offer solace, when the winged thing has only made it simpler for you to snuff out their flickering flame. someday you'll be a butterfly in careworn clothes crushed by the hand you hoped would hold your frayed frame. and all you'll want is to know why the world that made you has failed you so. 251111 what's it to you? who go blather from