Per 
Identity's Calling
It was a simple thing to think about, almost fading away yet thinking in another "parallel universe", you would've survived, somehow.
But is that the truth, the real truth?
It was like questioning if this reality was the only one.
It was either false, or false. Or so it seemed to be.
It's almost like looking into a mirror of sorts and seeing not yourself, but something else, you don't know that it is you because it could be just be what your mind want's you to believe.
These were the thoughts of a simple, humble man, sitting at a table with his children and wife.
Through the windows of their quite simple and humble cabin, flares of yellow and the bangs of gunpowder goes off in the far distance.
This was something the simple, humble man could've never thought would happen in his life span, considering that very thing was waning.
Considerable doubt bounces from one to the other, without speech they communicated thoughts of dread.
The man stands up, and does a simple walk over to his personnel defender, one that he would use for what he thought as the inevitable.
The fall of what he thought of as home was, simply, inevitable.
He slowly, yet simply, walks over to a simple glass container.
From this container he brings out and unveils the identity he had wished away some time ago.
Unraveling this identity, it was a simple cloth with a simple design on it.
A hexagon, with the polish national bird in the middle.
It seemed so simple, yet it was the identity of many.
The man quickly veiled it and returned it to it's original place of being, wishing it back, and to wait until this identity is needed and requested again.
