This poem is about Delita and his guilt. I always thought that
was kinda interesting, so I wrote about it. If I messed up the quote,
sorry. : >
When you think of me you think of prosperity
wealth, power, and all the trappings of the finest lord.
When you look at me you see not what is there;
but a symbol of some higher ideal.
You are sadly mistaken
You don't want to listen to what I really am,
a small man, slayer of the innocent,
represenative of the corruption
which has haunted mankind since its birth
I held hands with the devil himself
promised him my soul,
it seems for nothing
I sit at the very apex of power, yes...
but it is all a lie.
My best friend died nobly, died for a cause.
He fought against all the evil,
and all the hatred, and ultimately
made a martyr of himself
History forgot his name,
dismissing him as a lone heretic.
But I still remember...
"Do you remember how father taught us to play the reed flute?"
Yes, I do...
Please, Ramza, I beg your forgiveness.