An Unmarked Grave

Now let the devious Pheme cast her spell, And let the gods of gossip have their way, Their judgments realign at break of day, At such time you and I emerge from hell. And underworlds will surely do us well, For there lies some truth in what masses say When time has passed and in our rest we lay, Down goes the height of grace from which we fell. And let us lie in graves without a name, For what can capture lovely piles of dirt, And to what god do we owe worldly fame, Perhaps to one we innocently hurt? In any case, I’ll gladly take your blame, And on your silent tomb my name insert.