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
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