I hate it in here.
It's dark and wet. I'm wet.
I'm accompanied by things unworthy of my great heritage. The crumbled candy wrap, the coins of petty value, the surrounding lint and hair. A key amongst sesame seeds. Has this pocket ever been emptied?
Why did I end up here? I thought I deserved the world.
Because I haven't always been a napkin. No. I was made for more. I used to be proud and brave and ruthless. Once, I was a flag.
My colors flew above bloody fields of war.
White for freedom.
Red for justice.
Black for God.
Like ants they would gather below me. Worshiping little followers seeking guidance, seeking truth.
I was king.
The real true king who had outlived long bloodlines of mortal leaders. They were all just tools. Facilitators of my glorious conquest.
I stuck my pole into countless generals' lifeless chests and my radiance spread above their lands. Got into their people's souls and minds, and claimed it all for me.
So, I grew bigger.
And then, I wanted more.
I wanted truth. A sole constant connecting humanity with unbreakable shackles. I found out, money does that.
I wanted to be the protector. In the name of peace and in the name of knowing better. In the name of balance and equality. I will be the one to take care of everything. Know my name and I will gladly embrace the fame.
I wanted liberty. The freedom to speak your own mind. To believe in yourself and do your best, serving under my resolute direction. I discovered the raw power emanating from millions of mindless vessels. How could I reject that?
I saw dead heads offered to dead gods and dead flags offered to the flames. Because I was The One. And if you're not with me you are against me. If you carry the false colors of deceit you shall fear my righteous wrath. All shall embrace my truthful ideals. All will kneel under my ever-consuming shadow.
But then again, why did I feel so used?
My freedom, was inside a cell filled with nothing but decaying corpses. My justice, was in form of cries and pain. My God, was never by my side. It was just me. Carried around like a glorified excuse for crime.
Soon, my colors were replaced. My legacy archived in the history department of a dusty library. A legacy traveling through eternity gathering distortion and grime to become something much different. But even for its errors and lies, it will probably never include anything about the drunken breath or the endless snot I have to tolerate these days.
Maybe, it's for the best.