Wednesday, February 6, 2008

The wine of death

I shall drink Socrates' wine of death,
just to bid and kiss all our days goodbye.

Like a sacrilege, but I feel no remorse,
As my soul falls from the angry skies.

But everything in this life’s voiceless and gone,
we're a hapless victim of the indifference in man.

Quiet moments and there were blissful songs,
but this is not, I know, the home that I long.

I am sick, unto death, so I leave defeated,
hear ye, a requiem to a life that no one knew.