Poor Damocles! I'd feel damned too
if I were waiting for the sword
to drop, and slice my soul in two.

The briefest touch, the softest word
could yank apart that fragile thread
and, winging downward like a bird

reaching for something warm and red,
talons outstretched, the hungry blade
sever the living from the dead.

Oh, to be mercifully unmade
in one bright blow! No blame to cast,
nor any reason to be afraid,

for none took part in making fast
the darkness piercing through and through
your heart, suspense complete at last.

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