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.
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Author:
AnxiousMane (
Offline) - Published: March 22nd, 2024 17:46
- Comment from author about the poem: "...Gwyn's mighty bolts peeled apart their stone scales..."
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments2
Powerful work.
thank you!
flesh prison and despised, look fondly on how u lived. Is this in retrospective before your body was a prison or does include the despised era? Thanks, for clarity
Im not completely sure what you're asking, but I think yes, the looking fondly on how i lived does include the despised era
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