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Ovid's Withering
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Winter in Tomis
Harsh lands lie before him
As he struggles to keep his wit
Malicious thoughts infecting-
Crippling the morale of his spirit
Shattered visions of the fallen begin to transpire.
An awful nostalgia consumes him.
A crooked smile forms.exalting the dead
So began the fall of a mastermind.
Realizing as his mind falls to pieces
They are but catalysts - parts of a puzzle to a different plan
As the images surfaced, his virtue descends
Living amongst those barbarians
Though a fierce complication
Their tact was that of a wounded creature
And they were overrun
'I remain in exile
My bones grow weak like the sun
Descending into the trees
To end this daily affliction
As winter shows its pallid face
And the earth veiled with marbled frost
Forsaken - this gradual madness consumes my mind
Perdition in Tomis
Undead armies of Tomis
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Commanded only by the presence of my absense
Brought to life by the death of myself
Risen to ease this torment
Sacrilege; The second chance to formulate a reason
The relapse crucifixion forthwith to go into effect
Casting him away; instead insuring their demise.
I remain in exile
My bones grow weak like the sun
Descending into the trees
To end this daily affliction
As winter shows its pallid face
And the earth veiled with marbled frost
Forsaken - this gradual madness consumes my mind
Perdition in Tomis
Each day passing now I beg for some remorse
Desperately grasping at what I feel to be my last bit of life
But unlike the cycle of the attic
I feel as though there is no recourse
I've withered to nothing.'
'Save me from drowning, and death will be a blessing.'
Hope for his designed tomb
'Rescue my weary spirit from annihilation
If one already lost may be un-lost'
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