In Service of Ego

A small man with small hands. All he wants is to be liked. No one likes him.

Does he know? No. He has no self-awareness.

He is an empty shell of a person. He is all bluster and contrivance. A scaffold of lies propping up a spineless sack of organic waste.

Those who support him do it out of spite, for they, too, feel empty. A promise was made by men who made themselves by stepping on everyone they could. These men created a system in which few would reap immeasurable wealth, obtained through the active privation of those not unscrupulous enough to realize that civilization is just a lie.

A lie invented by those who use it as a veil. Behind it, they belie all its tenets. They steal, they prevaricate, they cheat.

The people who supported the sad, empty man thought they were in on the gag. They thought, because they look like him, they might be entitled to the spoils of theft and graft. But they're the biggest suckers of all. Pawns manipulated by the most banal of villains: the narcissist. The man who seems to love only himself, but has no idea what love is.

All he knows is how to gratify his ego, the consequences to the rest of us be damned.