Most Of Us

In another age I would've married a sorry woman from my small village, had too many children, broken my back with my hands, and come home drunk.

I would've died early from diseases, having suffered humiliation aftef humiliation, my heart twisting at the sight of a coin, while our hated king lived far off on a hill.

I would've believed in anything that was given, been on my knees to anything with a singular face. I would not have been as I am, one who believes in himself and nothing else, to whom everything else is in service, and live up here in a bewilderment of choices, doing what I choose, The King of Everything.

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