Such is the fate of those bearers of oaths
Encumbered by the weight of musty virtues,
Mired in saturnine madness to besmirch and decompose
Such will be the fate of half-built statues.
Free from the binds of flesh at last
After ages of deepening the mournful quarry.
Reveries of aghast moments remain past
From discordant times of shame and glory.
Have a gander into these broken skulls.
Their lustre fades unheeded 'neath the bleary sky
As if they could still beseech and scream their psalms
To think that even bereft of life they continue to defy.
Whether we've been destined to fall heir to grace
Or rather live like aphids, feeding off each other's misery
There's no denying our consequential common-trace,
Defying life itself becomes the least compelling gesture of impiety.
Be that as it may, whatever doesn't kill you, disappoints the rest of us.