Power seeker:

You claw your way to the top.
Each rung of the ladder gets you higher.

You've back stabbed and lied to gain the advantage, manipulated and hated to reach the next rung.

You finally made it to the top of the stairs after all these years.

But the stairs are actually upside down and you haven't climbed anything. You've only descended into a pit of hell.

With devils and demons at the bottom with you.

You lie and deceive just like these demons. You use treachery and half-truths, just like them. You plot and scheme, just like them. You lust after more power, just like them.

Look in the mirror now, power seeker.

You are a devil.

Where do I fit, Father?
Where do I call home.
Where do I find shelter in this world so alone.

Where do I fit, Mother?
I've done all you've asked.
I went to the mountains, to the beyond, much further than those from our past.

Where do I fit, Brother?
We travelled so far. We've sought to find shelter underneath distant stars. We've laughed and we've cried in all these long days, looking and yearning to find something we've lost.

Where do I fit, Creator?
Where do I shine. Where do I find the people similar to mine.
This world seems so far from what I had in mind. So far from the noble ideals from my youth. So far from the place I thought I certainly knew.

I fit no where. Not now, nor ever. I am cursed to find loneliness in a life soon surrendered.

Where do I fit, dear Reader?
I'll ask you this time. There are not many days left before I am done. Is it all lost from me to never return? To wander this earth on this formidable quest. Alone. Afraid. Adrift and bereft.

I fit nowhere. Not now, nor ever. Where those who once knew me will find me again. The same as I was and forever will be. To roam this cold place with a distant echo of times before still ringing in me - Remember. Remember. Remember.

Summertime is wonderful for many things, not the least of which is the delightful sound of children playing all throughout the neighborhood.

Children laughing and giggling as they're racing along the sidewalk. And then suddenly, almost without warning, the wind turns cold, and the streets become empty.

The echoes of joy and laughter have gone from the neighborhood streets, replaced by the clanging chains hitting the road as the buses roll on by.

You can almost hear the pied piper of schooldom prancing through the streets, enchanting the young ones away, far away, far from their parents and homes.

The streets are quiet and empty.