the poisoned chalice.

It could have been enjoyed,

not in malice-

but with joy undelayed.

From my arm it should have slid,

before a gulp I took,

from the poisoned chalice.

Had I been a monk,

of the ancient Greece-

I'd have prayed before;

to pacify the turbulent sea.

Will they mourn?

Will they?

Will they laugh and scorn?

The ignorance will be interred,

may the truth never be impugned,

for the past to shield the legacy.

Let the good be undecampaigned;

for my sorjourn to many was an efficacy.

Should this be the end;

count my thoughts fecund,

for the deferred bliss.

This was accidental,

an utter fright to my living-

the chalice was ornamental,

I wasn't judgemental.

Bunguswa Writes.