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Literature Text
Point of View
A quandary my dear, is it not?
A curious state of affairs, on every twist and turn
What what my dear? What is this that you say?
A villain he must be?
Why must he be?
His deeds you say?
But my dear who is to say, he is not a hero in his brain?
What is bad, what is good?
I cannot say. Can you?
The line between good and evil, so often is it blurred
Why murderers and rapists can be heroes in their own eyes
Even a babe, just born, can be a villain to another
What of me, you say?
What am I in my eyes?
Why truly, my dear, I am of the feline persuasion
Sauntering down the path of life
Paying no heed to the wandering masses
And if I lose my path and my head in the package
Well, my dear, of lives I have eight more to spare
And if I grow tired of the endless road
A rug and a fireplace will be mine from then on
A bowl of cream by my side
Simplicity and decadence all in one turn
What is this that you say my dear?
What if kings fall and kingdoms crumble?
What then shall I do?
Well then frankly, my dear, I shan’t give a damn
A quandary my dear, is it not?
A curious state of affairs, on every twist and turn
What what my dear? What is this that you say?
A villain he must be?
Why must he be?
His deeds you say?
But my dear who is to say, he is not a hero in his brain?
What is bad, what is good?
I cannot say. Can you?
The line between good and evil, so often is it blurred
Why murderers and rapists can be heroes in their own eyes
Even a babe, just born, can be a villain to another
What of me, you say?
What am I in my eyes?
Why truly, my dear, I am of the feline persuasion
Sauntering down the path of life
Paying no heed to the wandering masses
And if I lose my path and my head in the package
Well, my dear, of lives I have eight more to spare
And if I grow tired of the endless road
A rug and a fireplace will be mine from then on
A bowl of cream by my side
Simplicity and decadence all in one turn
What is this that you say my dear?
What if kings fall and kingdoms crumble?
What then shall I do?
Well then frankly, my dear, I shan’t give a damn
Comments2
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I'm imagining a ragged old woman with missing teeth holding up a lantern, barely illuminating a grimy alleyway while one or two ordinary people sit enraptured at her feet, enraptured by her words. Nice job!