Antigone buried deliberately her brother
Knowing she’d be punished in a stony way
But the hero has been sanctified
by the deities of perfection
Let defrost the core and the inner space
Ready for anaesthesia
Serve the delirium and
cringe into nostalgia of this ambience
An apple to hallow the delay
of the funeral of Death
It’s only half a class dying
in the center of ignorance
Do never deify the authority that
seems to crow victory
The candle burns next to
the cradle of our inability
But the sound and smell of this
nostalgia delights me into a cry
of pensile thoughts
The emperors reigned over Rome
As I am reigning over this sacred deity