“Per scopulos, per rupes, fluviosque sonantes aspera ad astra volo, fraternaque caede petivi…”
“Through crags, over rocks, and roaring rivers, I fly, through hardships to the stars, seeking death by fratricide…”
Virgil – Aeneid
It meant to be
Ten
Years of
Destitude
Humiliation
Ego devastation
Depravation
All that shit
Comes to twenty
Plenty
Jobs
Of a slave
In desparate trade
Of my skills
And talent
For nothing
Apparent
Waste of my life
In ungodly strife
Subdued to harsh sentence
In repantance
For ...
What have I done?
Why I keep
Slaying monsters
Cleaning Augean stables
And stealing in favours
Of those who have
More
Than deserve
Is that for fun?
Or ...
Observe
How I’m trying
To prove
That I’m not only
Brave and strong
Wrong
Observation
In that mad obsession
Relentless
And ruthless
I show
That I’m humble
Enough
To accept
Gods’ derilic
Verdict
Punishment
For the sins
Of “youth-less”
Meant to be
Ten
Labours done
And dusted
But I keep
Doing them still
Proving that
I’m not
A SHILL
That I mean it
That every minute
I remember
How in
Alcoholic stupor
I killed
Everything
I loved
Not once I did
So, there’s
The thing…
I want to
Love
And be loved
Again
But apparently
I’m not worthy yet
Insane?