i met the sin of pride, it was a figure of shattered mirrors

  sat on a golden throne

  with a crown of flames, brighter than the sun

  he sticks his hand out to me, as i shake it, flames engulf my hand.

  the crown drops to the floor, alongside its head

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  The head is the Achilles heel to a prideful person.

  they hear with ears of an owl

  they speak with a tongue of gold.

  they breathe with arrogance.

  and their only thoughts are about themselves.

  as i observed the head.

  i saw me. thousands of versions.

  but i only paid attention to a select five.

  they had something i didnt.

  and i wanted it.

  one had a burning flame in his eyes.

  one was trapped in a dimension of mirrors.

  one was a void, with an aura of despair.

  one looked divine, corrupted.

  and the last looked like a king of kings.

  they were all versions of me that reached their peak.

  I want their peak.

  and i want to surpass them all.

  for once, i feel something other than pride.

  i felt envious.

  envious of myself.

  not me.

  them.

  SIGNED, OSSEA.