Damnation was his destiny,
For he dared to pick a vocation,
Precisely contrary to the anticipation
And that was his only felony.
A foray of bashing remark,
Pushed him into the dark.
In quietus, solace he found,
Lying on the splendid ground.
A silent figure concealed in shroud,
Reclined amidst the teeming crowd.
Once he was a cheerful lad,
Now a paltry cheerful dead.
Indeed, expensive was his supplication,
As he had sought a mere affirmation.