Imaginings.

Here we go.

I'm making it onwards unto my goal, and all that I see below me is naught but a fire riddled landscape, flaming up and flaring up, decimating all that lays before it.

That thing I sought is gone. It's gone forever, and I'm never getting back, no matter how I try.
It's been stolen from me, and no matter how I cry and how I whine, and how I tear up, it shalt never be returned.

All that I thought was real is gone, and replaced with a pale imitation of that was ripped from my soul so quickly.

It's gone. It's gone and I want it back. You bastards, why did you take it from me? It was mine! How did I bother you with it, and why would you want to hurt me for that small thing. That small victory.

That small dignity.
It was all I had.