In the beginning was the Word, And the Word promised peace. Love thy neighbor. Compassion for all beings. Submit and find mercy. Harmony through order. Every sacred text begins the same— Divine love, cosmic justice, universal compassion. The faithful open their books and read salvation, Finding poetry, parables, promises divine. But keep reading past the beauty. There's always a verse that names your enemy. There's always a passage that redefines "neighbor," Always permission hidden in interpretation. The ink is holy, the reading sharp, And history is written in what they carved— Not on scrolls, but into flesh and bone, Scripture made manifest in blood alone. Written in blood, every sacred page, Holy words twisted into rage. They preach salvation, then define who bleeds— Your scripture is a list of enemies. Written in blood—not ink. Written in bodies—not words. Written across centuries of justified slaughter Because a book said god approved. They marched for conquest wrapped in righteousness— Crusaders citing gospels, jihadists citing surahs, Hindu nationalists wielding Gita verses, Buddhist monks blessing genocide in Myanmar . They burned the different as heretics and apostates— Inquisition pyres, fatwa executions, Confucian purges of cosmic disorder, Different tribunals lighting the same flames. They carved hierarchy into human worth— Vedic caste making oppression divine law, Abrahamic faiths debating which souls count, Every scripture finding ways to rank the living. They colonized calling it enlightenment— Christian missions and Muslim empires, Buddhist sangha spreading through imperial swords, "We bring salvation"—always meant submit or die. Written in blood, every sacred page, Holy words twisted into rage. They preach salvation, then define who bleeds— Your scripture is a list of enemies. Written in blood—not ink. Written in bodies—not words. Written across centuries of justified slaughter Because a book said god approved. And they say: "You're reading it wrong, That's not what it means, those were different times, True believers would never do such things"— But they did. They do. They will again. Every holy book was written with exit clauses, Every commandment conditional on who counts, Every promise of peace with definitions of enemy, Every mercy reserved for the properly faithful. The Bible, Quran, Vedas, Sutras, Analects— Different authors, different gods, same loopholes. Love all people who believe correctly. Show compassion within proper hierarchy. Scripture isn't being twisted—it's being read, Cover to cover, the peace AND the genocide, It was always there waiting for desperate hands To find the verse that whispers "yes, you may." Your. Holy. Texts. Are. Kill. Orders. Dressed in prayer. Wrapped in divinity. Sold as salvation. Your. Holy. Texts. Are. Kill. Orders. Every. Single. Faith. Every. Single. One. Written in blood, every sacred page, Holy words twisted into rage. They preach salvation, then define who bleeds— Your scripture is a list of enemies. Written in blood—not ink. Written in bodies—not words. Written across centuries of justified slaughter Because a book said god approved. So close your books and put down your blades. Your scripture was always a manifesto, Your faith was always a weapon forged in fear. I reject the Word—all of them— Because I've seen what they're written in. Not ink. Blood. Always blood.
