Some poetry I wrote

In Memoriam: Octavius

These aching arms carry so much weight
but not enough to lift my burden
and so I am borne down by hate.

I wonder what moment sealed my fate.
Does it take so “little” to break a child?
These aching arms carry so much weight.

And in my search to achieve the great
I was ridiculed of madness; pride,
and so I am borne down by hate.

In my vain dreams I’d not abate
and received for such so fitting rebuke.
These aching arms carry so much weight.

There’s nothing now to clean my slate,
having followed vengeance into the night.
And so I am borne down by hate.

In times now, when it is quite, quite late
I think perhaps my father was right.
These arms of mine carry so much weight;
and so I am borne down by hate.

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