The Phantom Pennance

for a long time his shadow was not long cast his head held high like a ships main mast below the surface turmoil bucked and sprayed slowly defeating all plans well made realisation dawned one morning like a hammer to the head it must be strangly liberating to wake up dead how long had it been and what caused his demise were soon forgotten when endless possibilities arise he is dead or was dead extinct is his life but his world is still sharp as the edge of a knife he cries aloud amonst us forever despair eternal life as a phantom is his cross to bear