Once, A Fallen Poet Flied

Let us talk about

the fallen poet.

When he had committed a crime

of murder.

Back when the world

is a prison sardined

with thousand 

convicted minds.

He was a fugitive

that sought 

refuge to the

compacted walls

of asylum built

inside his minds.

He was sinful.

Murdering souls

with so much

infliction of pain

one cannot bear.

He once stabbed

his lover with a 

pen and the wound

began to cry ink.

But who knows,

it was a crime

that was left

unjustified.

He had once

caused chaos

to the world

then people

protested for his

death.

The fallen poet 

escaped and 

never to be seen again.

But look he sought

sanctuary within

the very walls

of his madness.

There he was

sacred.

He created his

own universe where

humanity is perpetually

bound to the suffering 

and death.

He was a god.

Holy and ruly.

He was being praised

by his own disciples.

It was majestic.

But the fallen poet

wanted to fly.

He wanted to

soar and cry

for freedom beyond

the fragile roof

that was concealing

his sin from the

sinful prejudice

of humanity.

So the fallen poet

took his wings and 

tied it to his neck

and began to soar

high that no

human can 

ever discover

his existence.

Now the fallen poet

is free.

No, he is no

longer fallen.