flesh prison

My prison is life.

The bars of my cell are sinew and blood.

So many detailed plans of escape;

Such piercing clarity of life outside these walls:

I have rotted here long enough.

I will die, but I shall do so in style.

My name will be forgotten,

My deeds will die with my only friend.

The embers of what remains of my soul

Will join the chorus of humanity's song

And burn sweetly as a part of that flame.

Now, let us earn that blessèd place

With a heroism of humble means,

That even I, who so despised life,

Will look fondly upon how I lived it.