The Eulogy, Vanished

Frowned upon he was,

As failed he all expectations,

Own was fault,

Lived he on others’ dreams.

 

Like a slave he was,

Wasted life whole;

Did as the master wanted,

Died then empty all.

 

Always he cried hoarsely,

Sand song theirs,

Bleeding were his own

deep inside the imprisoned self.

 

Eulogized he was then,

Renowned became the grave,

Rot inside which the flesh

of the dead heart’s unsung song.

 

Fame he took it to

crush his own heart’s freedom,

Played they with it,

While his soul cried.

 

Expected they still more

from the slavish being,

Crumpled which under the demand,

A living grave he turned.

 

Now uncouth history he was,

Same was the grave,

Alas, eulogy had vanished

like his powdered bones in the grave.