The day he walked in that door was the day he was destined to die. He lay his foot inside the door and the other one concurrently came out. He transposed his clothes but they ceased to cover his body. The scarlet coat was left hanging in the closet with his soul. Indicted with crimes that he must not have been penalized for. And bashed by society with their spiteful words like arrows. Met his lover but was parted by the injudicious laws. Left skint and lacerated with the epithet of an outcast. Alien tears fill for him and outcasts pay their homages. No statue of air was this man yet hard labor was all he was given to build it out of stone. His teacher later delineated him as a blot on their tutorship. For he was but a tutor. De Profundis spoke of his anguished journey. Victorian times disagreed with his originality and frolic. He told platonic love was all he was guilty of. Yet, he was charged with crimes. Drowned in cries of shame; and incarcerated to rip him off his passion. Something was dead in him, and what was dead was hope. Hope died first and then gradually died the passion. In exile, his love for writing too deceased. The daemon inside him ceased to inspire. God sent the lord of death The lord of death didn’t move around pompously like him. But came announced, for it had been accepted. The wallpaper moaned upon his untimely death. For it desired to die instead of the then mincing man. He left the earthly plains for the good have fewer days. The good die young as did the revered outcast. Herodotus the father of history unerringly expressed the good ones’ misery. He repudiated to deny his soul and lived nonchalantly. He desired all the fruits of the world so he lived. Exile ruined him and rent his ardor. His meetings with his lover were interdicted by his family. He was pardoned but a century too late. Along with the outcasts that lived in throbbing pain. The outcast deceased when young but lived indefinitely. Infinite existence is promised for the ***** was silver-tongued. He died young and roams the immortal planes. Just like Alan Turing, Bhagat Singh, JFK, and countless more. God wanted them for they wanted to augment their heavens.