franky }{ d6 }{ cb }

They tell me to glorify the winners. "Worship those who do not struggle with addiction, those whose minds are clear as day; those with sound logic and moral compasses." They tell me with eyes of regret and fear.  And perhaps I should.

They tell me to follow those with kindness in their heart. "Follow those who will lead your growing mind towards becoming a gentle spirit, who will appreciate the innocence that you possess." They cry with hearts choking their voices.  And perhaps I should.

They tell me to bow before those who do not suffer. "Praise be upon those with brute strength and natural charisma. Worship  the gods and goddesses who grace us with their presence." They scream as I  slowly drift away.  And perhaps I should.

But I do not.

Instead I lay my laurels of praise upon the feet of the loser. I glorify, follow and worship the boy whose mind is not clear, whose compass has no morals, whose spirit is malicious, whose charisma is nonexistant. I do not follow a hero. This boy with sandy hair and pure skin does not follow God nor Satan. I follow a drunkard, I follow a genius, I follow a deadbeat, I follow a villain. But I love him nonetheless.

So I turn my back from parents who cry, plead and scream,  and place the soles of my feet firmly within my brothers shadow.


OOC: Ratmas CB1