I looked at them and I wondered.

“Do they not think themselves vulgar?”
“Have they no conscience?”
“Why are they so happy?”
“What kind of life is that to live?”

I swore not to be like them. If I had the power they had, I would use it for a much better cause, I thought. There are still true people, good people, the garden’s people, in the world. I believed I was one of them.

But I wanted power, and so I was not, and I am not.

I look at myself and I wonder.

“I am not who I used to be, for better. No, worse.”
“I was so cruel, still am.”
“I looked down on them, I thought myself mighty. How?”
“I have become something like them.”

I have failed, truly, for I did not start better, did not become bad. We were born on the same plane, and it was within both of our grasps to become better. We both fell, I after you.

But I will rise again, and you will stay down.

I swear it, not to you.

But to me.


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