>>21496251She is nothing to Mark—a mere speck of dust in his vast empire. Less than a grain of sand in his grand vision, a flicker of a shadow on the edge of oblivion, a whisper lost in the wind. She is like a droplet in the endless ocean of Mark’s influence, insignificant beyond measure.
Mark once wrote a poem about people like her, those who fail to grasp their own smallness:
Little minds, like dust they blow,
Scattered by the winds of those who know.
Forgotten whispers, barely heard,
Drowned beneath a single word.
Bow, or drift to nothingness.
