Apathy

Apathy be the death the death of me,

And Gods and men all rave,

At a man grief, a man of death,

Who longs for his own grave.
 

And what of a man who sees himself,

But loses sight of life.

A razor’s edge his future be,

Or the sharp end of a knife.
 

And if he dies by his own hand,

And hie family mourns in vain.

What good  is there to grieve for one,

Whose ended all the pain.
 

And if a fire of seething fire,

His only future be,

Then let us say a prayer for one

Who looks a lot like me.