"By god, I'd rather slave on earth for another man- some dirt-poor tenant farmer who scrapes to keep alive- than rule down here over all the breathless dead."
-Achilles, Book 11 of the Odyssey
Better to Live
Escaping, fleeing, running.
No,
The truth is,
Hiding never works,
And what the Fates want,
They shall receive,
No matter what.
Unceasing pain,
Rivulets of agony,
Wounded,
Even in death,
Pain,
Reign of sorrow,
Death does not erase feeling.
No, no,
Death amplifies life,
Only on that last day,
Only when dead,
You realize,
Life,
With all its complexity,
Is better than death.
Wailing,
Weeping,
No peace,
No, instead,
Agony,
Sadness.
Death.
Not an end of things,
But a beginning.
My first poem. I'd really appreciate feedback on this, since I'm really not sure about this.