[untitled]
Ryan Coffman
A man was born who with urge to do ill was so bedeviled,
With vitium his heart were branded thus,
Thereafter vitium ‘twere his mettle.
A man was born, virtues upon his stolid brow were placed,
Goodly acts were the means by which he sought grace.
Prithee, mine mortal hosts,
In this our perpetual agon,
All fated inscriptions besides,
Who durst claim this pair,
Differs so very much from one another,
From thou or from I?
What I shall be
if I never was
Ryan Coffman
I did a deed, by which I killed,
Yet all transpired,
As intended, by greater will
O, for that deed, crafty and treachery didst I enlist
As a result,
I would not exist
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