A life, marred by fear,
Tainted by the poison of conformity,
And subdued by authority
Is the life most mourned.
Because when the strings of the Fates cleave at last,
And leave nothing but shadow,
Not only will the loss of body be grieved,
But the loss of mind, previously swimming with unheard thoughts,
And the idea that in the grand scheme of things,
Only God's veins course with ichor,
And ours simply run thick with blood
Found in any other body on this earth.
And to lead a life like that of another and to lose
Is to simply fade into the plethora of corpses
Lying silently beneath our feet,
Never to whisper their lessons learned from hindsight to the living,
For they have failed to "seize the day"
And instead, the day has seized them.
