Commanding Banality

Little did I know, that the seeping tantrum of an old forgotten clock can throw me astray.

To the wall, locked down by the aged and the frayed.

I was told I would be magnanimous. Great. The disillusioned will set eyes on me, whether theirs, or their captors.

But I am now stuck.

I am now a mortal. A consumer.

I was not destined for the helms of revolution.

I was fated to read about them after the victors write their books,
And the marginal marks their margins.

I should be okay with that. I shan't celebrate power, dominance or glory.

I should be smiling, commanding banality.