10 June 2012
In a little while we will all vanish, Everybody's hard worked for reputations soon to be tarnished. Why care what our repute of you is. When soon you will have wilted just as the rest. Your facade cant disguise who you really are.
Striving for power and greed is your game. Using your supposed charm and wit to gain fame. Does it really matter how much money you make? When all you do is take. You will steal from peoples lives countless times, Not caring about what you relieve from them. As long as you don't believe in them. Push us to the back of your mind don't worry we don't exist.
Your conscience? non-existent so far.
Until your lying on your death bed, About to take your last breath. Struggling to stay awake. With a lifeless hiss you ask, with all our previously blurred faces flooding back to your mind. With your attentive wife by your side. "Am I a good person? Righteous and true, what I have done was all for you. For us I stole from people's lives, without them even knowing. All For this life of repetition and a house in pristine condition."
She replies "Was it worth it?" Observing his insensate body, Which once wore a suit with navy lapels and a stitch so fine, now turned to disheveled robes. Answering for him she said softly " to take from another's life to better your own is selfish but to better mine might suffice the goodness in your soul.
The Man In The Suit • Opuss № I