On his chest, his hopes and dreams are placed.
On his chest, his mindset and body focus.
On his chest, are his passions told from beginning to end.
A child
A murder
And a compass.
;:::::::;
The lights in the city gleamed with their songs of praise as a young Xerxes walked past. Strolling down the lane he studied the busy people as each rushed to their destiny.
As he walked his floppy black hair bounced with each step. He watched knowingly through the eyes of others from a distance. Waddling towards his destination, his eyes wandered to the ice cream truck.
A darkness in the light shone quietly with a timid voice appearing from the shadows once more. Voices echoed the questions muttered through his life. Each voice confused with a common sense of distain. Each voice seemed to question his dedication.
Each had a purpose in life so why didn't he?
Each had a destination so why didn't he?
Each had a story so why didn't he?
His purpose was to live and die in vain.
...
Who are you?
All in good time. For I am just like you.
What am I?
All in good time, you won't remember.
We have no worth without him.
He is our destination.
.....
Xerxes had realized something years ago. His hopes, his dreams, his aspirations, and his life were nothing of importance.
Voices were everywhere at once scattering from his mind to his decisions. Each voice containing criticism and unjust.
....
I remember now.
Of course, you do. He was our creator.
He was a pawn controlled by the decisions of others.
He is a pathetic vagabond.
He removed my hopes, my dreams, and my sacrifice because he was afraid.
Afraid of achieving greatness?
Was it not for the good of all? Fear is not an evil thing.
No, it wasn't for all.
YOU ARE READING
His Tattoos
Short StoryNot every tattoo tells of a party or drunken night, but not every tattoo tells a happy story either. Most of these tattoos are nowhere near regretting. Each story is told through writing on his skin. Each tattoo like a delicate painting told...
