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Ode: To a Twentieth Century Suicide
Shot out of a cannon he was,

Back on Independence day.
No one expected his coming.
No one knew what to say.
A biblical name was given him. Prodigy became his label
The armour was donned, he carried the flag.
His walk was respected, they allowed him to brag.
But somehow ...
You could see it coming.
He quit the ranks of Jupiter, so they dragged him
through the streets.
Banished from their static hearts, slaughtered by deceits.
No, he wasn't quite the Jesus symbol.
He didn't have the balls.

Fear became the Motivator: fear of love, fear of hate,
fear of present
past, and late

Forced into hiding (he hid better than most,
recognizable only by the blind)

Transcendent was his sight, but salted were his wings.
His heart was of Achilles' ...

Thai made him a heal.
Peace was all he sought those days,
Twas not in the cards

(Disillusionment was the Joker, it ran wild).

People loved him all right.
SUre, they loved him to Death.
He was shot out of a cannon, you know,
Back on Independence day.
With the heart of an artist
Who COUldn't find his pen.

Shot out of a cannon he was,
. Back on Independence day,
No one knew he was leaving,
No one knew what to say.

-Mark H. Metzger